King Grizzlebeard
by Piccolo Sky
Summary: Story Two of Four of a Limited Series I'm doing: "Lesser Known Fairy Tales". When a beautiful yet vain princess spurns every last suitor vying for her hand, it prompts her father to promise her to the first bachelor who shows up at the castle door. When said bachelor ends up being a beggar, she's in for a "riches to rags" transition that will change her life in more ways than one.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: As I'm not able to put out a new chapter of "The Sorceress Cycle" this week, instead I'm putting out another entry in my "obscure fairy tales" limited series. This one is truly "obscure" as not many people are familiar with it. I hope you all enjoy it, however, just the same.

A word of warning. This is being published as a one-shot, but is quite long. Far longer than "Puss in Boots". I thought of breaking it up, but there weren't many places that were "good". So feel free to stop reading at some point and come back later. It's not going anywhere.

* * *

"KING GRIZZLEBEARD"

_Adapted from the fairy tale_

* * *

King Tyrell had never been so nervous in his entire life. Even the day he asked for his late wife's hand in marriage was as nothing compared to this. In spite of all of the prayers he had uttered earlier, both last night and this morning, he found himself entreating God once more to please let everything go well today. His personal manservant was near at hand, awaiting instruction, so he turned to him at once. He let out a long exhale.

"How do I look?"

"Perfectly well, as usual, sir." He answered in an even, colorless tone. However, the servant was old and that was how he always answered things.

"Are you certain?"

"You seem to be sweating a bit, sir."

"Oh dear…" He quickly reached for his pocket handkerchief, brought it out, wiped away a bit, and then put it back in his breast pocket askew. "How about now, Radcliff?"

The manservant paused, and then reached out to adjust the handkerchief, folded it, put it away properly, and then straightened the rest. "Very well, sir."

The king sighed a bit at his mistake. "…Thank you, Radcliff." He answered lamely, and then turned back to the front of the castle. He was in the main foyer at the moment, along with some of his best servants, all of whom were prepared to greet and receive the multitude of guests who were getting ready to arrive. Although having a large number of guests was nothing new for King Tyrell…he had spared no expense tonight. He had made sure all of the servants were dressed in their finery, that only the best were on call and the rest were doing other services such as meal preparations and cleaning, that an excellent feast was prepared, the grand ballroom was fully decorated, and, in general, that everything was perfect for the grandest night the kingdom had seen in many a year and that all of the surrounding kingdoms had seen in even longer than that.

The purpose, however, was not to celebrate a victory or forge an alliance or even to flaunt his good fortune in an effort to appease the surrounding nations. No, it was something far more important to him than any of that.

This was the day he would debut Amelia to the lords in his kingdom and all of the surrounding ones for a hundred miles.

After saying one last prayer, he looked to the servants at the door, and gave a nod of his head. In response, they nodded back and then pulled the great doors open.

There was already quite the retinue gathered out there. It seemed ten had arrived ahead of the appointed time, and already he saw not one but two carriages pulling up to the court beyond them; the first of many more to arrive. However, now that the door was open, the king was able to put on a happy face. Immediately, he smiled warmly and appeared perfectly full of good cheer. At once, he held out his hands.

"Welcome, welcome, one and all! Please, do come in! Make yourselves at home! Have some wine and hors d'oeuvres! Come in, come in!"

One by one, the lords began to come in. Of course, after having their effects tended to by the servant staff, their first order of business was to come forward and greet their host. They too were all smiles, jovial, and each one of them looking rather hopeful. After all, each was a potential suitor, which meant one of them might be going home with a wife-to-be.

The first one soon came up to the king. A rather stout man with a big beard and mustache, he had a rather large midsection, but seeing as King Tyrell had put on a few pounds over the years, he wasn't miffed. He soon gave a bow of greeting to the king.

Radcliff, by now, had moved to the king's side and taken up the part of introducing each arrival. Quite a useful thing to have such a servant…for King Tyrell knew he never would have remembered all the names himself. Not with how many he was inviting.

"Prince Chamberlain, your majesty." He began.

The king smiled warmly back at him. "Welcome to my castle, prince."

"Thank you, my lord." He said as he rose again. "Is Princess Amelia within?"

The king hesitated only a moment. "She is, sir, but…she is still being prepared. Once all the guests have arrived and assembled in the main ballroom, she will make her appearance before the whole gathering."

The prince smiled a bit wider. "I'm looking forward to it, my lord. I hear her beauty surpasses that of all other maidens in the entire country."

The king chuckled a bit in response. "Well, if I confirmed your suspicions, that would only be idle boasting, although I certainly wouldn't think that way. You'll see for yourself soon enough, prince."

Letting out a bit of a chuckle himself, he moved along, seeming to be eager to get inside and to the hors d'oeuvres that had been mentioned. Coming in behind him was a much younger man, taller and much leaner than the previous one, with a crop of blond hair underneath his hat. He soon moved up to the king and gave a graceful bow of his own.

"Baron Delbrook, your majesty." Radcliff announced.

"At your service, my liege." The baron added.

"Do rise, good baron. Welcome to my home."

The baron did so. "I hear your daughter has the most beautiful singing voice. Is that true, my lord?"

The king laughed a bit. "I hate to brag, but…I would say you heard correctly. I'm hoping she gives everyone a song today so that everyone may get to see her talent."

"I look forward to hearing it." The baron answered with a grin as he moved on as well.

The next soon came up. This one was younger than the prince but older than the baron, but he was of a handsome countenance, although his head was completely bald.

"Count Tristen, your majesty."

"Good day to you, my lord." He said as he bowed. "I hope you are in good health."

"I'm doing quite well, my good sir."

"I have heard a rumor to the effect that the princess is a very learned woman. Reads all the time…studies the latest subjects and books… Is that correct, your majesty?"

"Quite true. All of it. She's one of the most well-learned in the kingdom."

"Excellent, excellent… So many fair maidens are lovely and pleasant, but haven't a thought in their heads. I look forward to meeting her."

Giving another light head bow to the king, he moved on.

The next one who came up actually gave King Tyrell pause, actually in awe of him for a moment. The one who approached was ruddy and handsome. Although he was young, he carried himself with all the elegance and poise of an older gentleman. His clothes were much finer than those of all of the others who had shown so far and all those who were still to come. He showed both strength in his hands and face, but had a pleasant look about him…a glow that warmed the heart of all around. He wasn't old enough to grow a full beard yet, but he did have a small, wiry tuft on the end of his chin that seemed to protrude just a little. It was the only part of him that seemed somewhat out of the orginary, but even that seemed to suit him.

While the other lords to arrive patiently began to chat amongst themselves to pass the time until their turn to greet the king, he strode forward readily, and gave the most graceful and dignified bow yet.

"King Grymes, your majesty."

For a moment, the king blanched inwardly at that name. Hardly flattering. Yet his memory soon registered that he knew that family name well…as well as the country and kingdom behind it. The young king, however, kept his head to the ground.

"At your service, my liege."

King Tyrell shook himself out of it. "Rise, gentle sir."

The young king did so, and the king suddenly reacted on seeing him.

"Oh…yes, I know you, good king. I believe we've met before…"

"We did once, your majesty. When my father and mother paid you a visit two years past, I accompanied them. I was a prince at the time, however."

The older king's face fell a bit. "Oh…I'm terribly sorry, young sir." He said with genuine sympathy. "The late king was always an excellent guest and a good man."

The young king nodded, and exhaled a bit. "…It was quite painful to lose them so suddenly to illness, but my year of mourning is at an end. I must look to the future for them and for my kingdom. I'm happy to announce that it is doing quite well. We're in a state of plenty." He smiled a bit more and snickered. "But I did not come to bore you with details of my own kingdom. Today belongs to you and Princess Amelia."

The older king smiled again. "Ah yes." In spite of the name, he knew full well that the Grymes were not only of a decent and upstanding household, but of a very wealthy and prosperous kingdom. And this young king was so handsome and splendid. The thought of Amelia choosing him made Tyrell light up inside. "As I said earlier, I hate to make idle boasts, but you will find Amelia's beauty is without peer. Never in all my years have I seen a maiden in my family line or in any others who can compare to her. She's like a jewel set in-"

However, the young king, while still smiling warmly, held up a hand.

"Oh, stop there, stop there, your majesty." He said calmly enough. "I do not doubt your claims. However, I wished to ask you a few other things about your daughter than I'm not certain others have asked before me."

King Tyrell paused on hearing this. For a moment, he was caught and silent, before his smile resumed.

"…Whatever do you mean, sir?"

"Just that I'd like to know all about her, your majesty." The young king answered with a simple shrug. "More basic things. For example, is she polite? Does she say 'please' and 'thank you' to others?"

The king blinked. However, he began to feel a bit uneasy. "Um…polite?"

The young king didn't dwell on that question, but soon moved to another one. "Does she offer thanks to God for her good fortune and what she has been blessed with, and pray for the welfare of her country and her father?"

The king blinked again. His brow was beginning to grow warm. "Well…Amelia was never an 'overt' prayer. She always keeps things in her heart. She's quite graceful, you know. Why-"

"I'm sure of it. Now, is she a grateful person? Does she show appreciation and gratitude when her servants or ladies in waiting have done her a good service and gone beyond their duty for her?"

"…Her voice is like that of an angel's-"

"Does she show kindness to the less fortunate? To the hungry? The orphaned? The widowed? The poor? The sick?"

"…She is the most well-learned woman you'll ever-"

"Does she know what it means to be humble? To understand humility? To see when she has done something wrong and to feel sorrow and remorse for it?"

By now, sweat was visibly coming down King Tyrell's face. He swallowed a bit, and finally settled on a half-truth.

"I'm…I'm afraid I haven't had the ability to find out such things, King Grymes, and she hasn't had the chance to…display them. You see, she was her mother's only daughter, and she died when she was very young. She was my only child, and I wanted to make sure she always had the best of everything, and that every need or desire she might have was met. I wanted her brought up to know how precious and important she was…and so I've given her all that I could to make her life heavenly."

The young king paused momentarily. "I see." He answered after a few moments more. However, the older king remained nervous and continued to sweat. Seeming to realize that, the young king gave him a warm, glowing smile. "However, I'm sure she's still an excellent woman. I will enjoy meeting her. And should she be a trifle, well, 'wanting' in those things I have mentioned, for lack of a better phrase…" He gave another simple shrug. "You'd be amazed how quickly such things can be picked up. Now I won't trouble you any longer, my lord."

Giving one more bow, he turned and began to move off.

King Tyrell felt a weight had been taken off of his shoulders. He wasn't sure what to conclude from that…if King Grymes was still interested and, therefore, he could still hope to unite his kingdom with his…or if the discussion had made him lose interest and he had to content himself with the other eligible bachelors. If the latter, he already felt overwhelmed. Amelia hadn't even made an appearance yet, and someone had already been made to lose interest.

He had looked so forward to this day a month ago…but then he had faced a hard reality. He hadn't paid much attention to how his only daughter behaved around others. Now, she had been "groomed" for today for some time, but even so…he was quite worried.

Hoping again that all went well, he put his smile back on to greet the next noble as Radcliff announced him.

* * *

Although Princess Amelia had two ladies-in-waiting, she also had two personal servants who attended to her for occasions such as this. Only one was assisting her at the moment. The other was outside the door, waiting for the servant to come and tell her that it was time to go to the grand ballroom. As for the ladies, they were in the same room…but neither looked too happy with their current situation, or even their current position within the royal court. They made sure to keep their heads down and their eyes to the floor, only occasionally looking to each other.

Amelia herself was seated at her vanity in front of the looking glass. And truth be told…there hadn't been a lady as beautiful as her in twenty years in over a thousand miles in every direction. She was young and fair, almost a living artwork in every way in terms of appearance. Her skin was flawless, her features perfect, and her hair like a river of bronze. Now that she had spent the past few hours preparing for today, she was magnificent. No more beautiful figure existed in the entire continent. Any man would have been enraptured with her beauty on sight…

…if it were not for "certain flaws".

The princess held her head and nose high as her servant girl made sure to carefully and gently brush her long, perfect hair as a final adjustment, and not out of trying to help her…but with the air that only one dripping with arrogance and pride might do. For all of her beauty, one could see she was a haughty and snobbish young woman. She might have been a goddess to any man who looked on her loveliness, but it was clear her greatest worshipper was herself. She wore all of her elegant finery with an "uppity" nature, as if she was partially disappointed that nothing "finer" had been brought to a woman of her standing, and she recoiled very slightly every time the servant girl grew too close, seemingly disgusted with having her too near although she had washed herself well before assisting the princess.

At one point, the brush went too hard, and pulled a bit of a tangle. The princess winced in discomfort, and the servant girl immediately reacted in shock, realizing what she had done. Before she could say a word, however, the princess wheeled around and seized the brush from her.

"You clumsy oaf!" She snapped at her. "You nearly ripped out my beautiful hair!"

Although it would have been a few strands at the most, the servant girl immediately cowered and bowed her head low. "I'm sorry, my lady! I thought all of the tangles were-AH!"

She soon recoiled in pain as the princess struck her on the head with the brush.

"My hair alone is worth more than your entire wretched family, you mongrel!" She sneered at her. She held in anger a moment, and then turned her head upright and once more resumed her haughty look. "It's already degrading enough that I have to have some low-born soot sweeper like you even come so close to touching me."

The servant girl, still very sore and in pain, nevertheless, quivered and went up to her to bow low once again. "I'm sorry, my lady… Please forgive me…"

"You can consider yourself docked three days pay for this mistake." The princess answered.

The girl looked up in shock and fear. "But…but, my lady…I need my daily pay just to feed myself… I'll have to starve for three-"

"I don't believe I asked you to tell me your miserable little life story." The princess answered as she turned the brush around and thrust the handle back out at her to take. "Hurry up and finish. One more slip and you'll be sacked."

The girl was still hurting, but she was also quite afraid, and knew that going three days without food was better than being totally penniless and dying of hunger in the street. In the end, she could only bow her head again and take the brush back. "Yes, my lady."

Although noblemen and noblewomen traditionally cared little for the affairs of their own staff, even the two ladies-in-waiting exchanged frowns with one another. The servant girl was already on the thin and pale side, yet it didn't matter. They had seen this before, and sadly had to live with it.

Princess Amelia had been an only child, and when only five years of age, her mother died. Her father was so grief stricken that he endeavored to shower all the love for his deceased wife as well as the only fruit of her loins upon her. And so, he gave her everything. The finest dresses. The most excellent prepared food. Furnishings made of expertly crafted wood, ivory, gold, and silver. She may have been a princess, but she was treated as greater than a queen. And never once did her father tell her 'nay'. Whenever she wanted something she was quick to get it. Whenever she was upset, the source of her discomfort was always removed. Whenever she was unhappy, she was always pampered. And always…the king would speak to her of how great and wonderful and beautiful she was…far more than any other.

As a child, that led for a rather spoiled upbringing. But as Amelia had aged and manifested all of the classic signs of a brat, he only would laugh them off, saying she couldn't be bad with those fair eyes, saying "girls will be girls", and only doting on her all the more and treating her the same. In time, she lost all appreciation for her father's good will. Instead, she grew to accept it, feeling she was worthy of it all. Brattiness gave way to snobbishness. And when she began to go into adulthood, it fully gave way to pride. Now, Princess Amelia may have been one of the fairest creatures ever to be seen by the eyes of men, yet she was so full of pride now, of the worst and most detestable sort, that she esteemed herself higher than all other men and women. To her, she was no mere princess or even a queen…but a goddess to be admired and loved and basked in the presence of as if she were the sun itself.

The king had begun to realize this all too late, and still did not know the full measure of it. Amelia's pride was so great now that there was no man on Earth who "lived up to her standards". This she firmly believed with all her heart, and the unfortunate king would soon see her act upon that belief.

At any rate, the servant girl finished a few minutes later, and then went for the princess' tiara to finish the ensemble.

"Make sure you don't leave any hand prints on it." The princess sharply ordered just before she touched it.

"…Of course, my lady." The girl timidly answered before carefully picking up the crown with her nails, bringing it over, and the placing it on her head. After that, she touched her up a few more times, and then looked to her in the mirror. The princess herself looked at her reflection, and soon smiled at what she saw.

"Very good."

"You look wonderful, my lady."

"Of course I do. As if I needed you to tell me that. Now stand away so I don't brush against you as I rise."

The servant girl swallowed again, but bowed her head low and pulled back. The princess rose, smiling at her own appearance, before turning to the pair waiting for her.

"Now then, fall in behind me, you two."

Both women looked a bit disagreeable at that.

"…May I remind you, my lady, that we are your ladies-in-waiting? Not your servants?"

"And may I remind _you_ that I am the princess here and can easily have you replaced?"

The two women grimaced slightly, but said no more. After a bit of hesitation, they both walked back and took their places behind Amelia.

Not long after, the door opened, revealing another servant, who kept her own head low and eyes to the ground as she looked inside.

"All of the guests are assembled, my lady. They await your presence."

The princess, in turn, inhaled a bit. "Very well. Let's see if any of them are anywhere near my standing…"

With that, she began to walk out, the ladies-in-waiting following behind.

* * *

The grand ballroom was decorated quite lovely for the occasion, but almost all of the décor was reserved for the walls. The main reason it had been used was because it was the largest chamber in the castle. When King Tyrell had summoned all of the eligible lords to his castle for this event, he had meant _all_ of them. A good two hundred nobles were gathered in the chamber. Many of them were from the same country as the king, but many of them were from surrounding countries as well. They were all alike both great and small, young and old, plain and handsome, and represented a spectrum of wealth. Although the king, naturally, thought more highly of the richer ones, in truth no one had been neglected who didn't come from a good background, a high amount of financial standing, and commanded some authority to boot. The truth was King Tyrell would honestly be pleased with anyone who had been picked.

By now, everyone had been served some refreshments and settled in, and all were quite welcome. There wasn't a single lord there who had come against his will, for, in truth, although the princess had never been seen by most, the stories and rumors of her beauty among those who had seen her had already spread far and wide. It was so beyond compare that it had made her very famous in all of the surrounding countries, and something of a legend to the lands beyond that. Furthermore, King Tyrell's own kingdom was nothing to sneeze upon. Indeed, every one of the lords hoped to be the one to win the hand of the princess, and all of them had prepared themselves very well in dress and appearance for just such an occasion. And now, they were eager to at last see the woman of the hour.

King Tyrell himself was present in the ballroom, but he made sure to stand in the back, and planned to leave as soon as his daughter appeared and leave the manner to the servants and guards. Just for the first half hour, at least…to make sure there wasn't any tension or pressure. Afterward, he would return to see how things were developing. He didn't really count on any of the lords here being so savage as to make a move on her, anyway. And he didn't want anything to distract the guests or his daughter. In truth, he felt a bit eager about today. He did truly love Amelia, after all, and his thoughts had turned for years to what the day would be like in which she picked a suitor. Although he was eager to see his kingdom expanded, he also truly wanted to see her happy.

Unfortunately, of late, his thoughts had turned toward other concerns as he began to finally truly notice his daughter's behavior…

_That is only with servants and ladies-in-waiting, however. Surely it won't be the same for these folk. They are kings, barons, dukes, princes, and all other manner of nobles just like her and even greater than her. I'm sure she'll be proper and polite to them…_

_ …Right?_

As he still thought of these things, he suddenly saw a form move in next to him. He turned, and was just in time to see his servant bowing his head. "Sir, Princess Amelia has arrived."

The king snapped out of it, and then nodded to his servant. "Thank you, Radcliff." He immediately turned his head to the head waiter a short distance away, and gave him the nod. The waiter, in turn, nodded back, and then gave out a short clap to alert all of the other servants to quickly make themselves scarce. When that happened, the entire assembly realized it was time, and they began to quiet down at once and turn all of their attention toward the king at the front doorway. When they did, he moved out a bit in front, smiled to everyone, and held out his hands.

"And now, my fine young gentlemen, the moment that you've all been waiting for. Once again, I thank you all for coming here today, and, without further ado, I wish to present to you all the woman of the hour. Here she is. The beautiful…the beloved…my daughter, Princess Amelia."

With that, he gestured to the other end of the ballroom. As one, every suitor turned and looked to the opposite side, and the servants placed on either side of the grand doors at that end immediately reached out and grasped the handles. They gave a pull, and both doors swung open in unison.

Soon after, Princess Amelia, looking more beautiful than any woman any of them had ever seen in their entire lives, dressed radiantly, with a face as perfect as a masterwork sculpture and hair as gleaming and beautiful as bronze, walked into the chamber with two ladies-in-waiting behind her. The room was completely silent. All of the suitors stared on, totally enraptured with her beauty. Many of the less disciplined ones had to struggle just to keep their mouths from hanging open in her presence. Many of the younger ones were immediately enamored with her, looking almost faint from seeing her beauty. All of them realized at once that for all they had heard of her countenance and loveliness, they had not heard the half of it. They were practically reverent to her as she walked into the room.

On seeing this reaction, King Tyrell smiled widely. It seemed he was worried for nothing. The entire hall was already enraptured with Amelia. He was sure that it would take all of their restraint and manners to keep from fighting over who could be the first one to ask for her hand in marriage. This would go just fine. With that in mind, he looked to Radcliff.

"Let us withdraw for now and have ourselves some of that wine as well, eh?" He said quietly with a smile. "We'll check in on this party in a half an hour, although perhaps we should make it a full hour, for I'm sure some of the suitors will have a dispute if she chooses too soon that they'll need to resolve…"

He looked up to the guard captain nearby and gave him a nod, giving him the message to make sure to keep order in his absence. He'd hate to have a brawl break out over Amelia, after all. With that done, he moved to the doors on his side as well. The servants stationed there immediately opened them, allowing him to exit with Radcliff following closely behind. The doors soon shut after him, leaving Princess Amelia "alone" with the suitors.

She continued to take a few more steps inside. Her head was slightly upturned, and a smile was on her face…small but seemingly satisfied, almost. After walking a bit further, enough to truly get into the room, she came to a stop. Here, she started to look around the chamber. On all sides of her, she saw smiling, dazzled, almost enraptured faces of the various lords, all looking upon her with great affection. Some were so stunned that it took a moment or two to start assembling themselves, to start planning introductions and what to say to her, how best to sway her or woo her with their opening words. After a bit longer, however, they looked to her hopefully, each one desiring that she speak to them first so they could have their chance.

Yet Amelia only continued to smile for a bit longer. At last, she turned her head behind her slightly.

"Lady Beatrice…whoever is this gang of ragamuffins?" She finally said…and not subtly either. In the silence of the ballroom, she made sure to say it quite loud, and with a proud and superior smile on her face…so that all could hear her. "And whatever are they doing in my ballroom?"

At once, the smiles began to fade slightly, looking a bit confused.

The lady-in-waiting addressed, on the other hand, leaned in closer and spoke more quietly, not trying to make a scene herself. "These are the young, unwed noblemen that your father has summoned here, my lady, to see which one you might choose for a husband."

Yet on hearing this, Amelia only smiled wider, and then let out a sharp chuckle. "A husband?" She echoed out loud. She soon gave out a louder chuckle. "A husband!" She said more loudly, more mirthfully. Soon, she put the back of her hand to her mouth and began to laugh. It was very loud…and very prideful and haughty. It served to confuse the men in the room even more.

She soon looked out and around herself, her face only looking on the verge of more laughter as she did so, and finally she burst out again afterward. "This is a joke! A husband? From _this_?" She remarked. "This group of circus performers? What nonsense! As if any of them would even be worthy of undoing the shoes of a lady like myself! I wouldn't even hire them to change the chamber pot! I mean…just look at them all!" She gestured around herself. "Honesty, a lady of _my_ upbringing, _my _standing, and _my_ beauty…married to one of _these_?"

By now, the suitors were looking quite confused, and even a bit uneasy. The last smile had faded, and they were now looking to each other in puzzlement at this sort of greeting. Some of them began to murmur among themselves. The ladies-in-waiting were beginning to grow quite uncomfortable, and with them all of the servants. Yet Amelia had just gotten started. She began to walk a bit further and went up to one suitor, a stout, big-bellied man.

"You there. What's your name?"

The man blinked in astonishment. After all, he had never been simply called "you there" like a common servant, and it rendered him mute for a moment. "…Prince Chamberlain, my lady." He finally managed to say.

She let out a haughty, airy laugh. "A good name for you, I'd wager, as I'm sure you fill up completely whatever chamber you step into. Do you stay in a room or all around one? Prince Barrel-Belly…_there's_ a much better name for you."

The ladies-in-waiting both suppressed a gasp, as did the nearby suitors…although a few servants quickly pressed their hands to their mouths to muffle snickers, and a few younger nobles hid their smiles. The prince, however, was far from smiling, looking both shocked and insulted. As for Amelia, she moved on to the next, a tall, lanky man with a messy crop of blond hair. "And you…what's your name?"

"…Baron Delbrook, my lady." He answered, a bit hesitantly.

"I'm sure that's where you grow best, isn't it?" Amelia chuckled. "Look at you with that messy blond hair and tall and thin as a reed! Do you have problems with crows, good baron? Do you keep bodyguards or scarecrows? Baron Cornstalk suits you better. Do watch out for scythes on your way home, good Cornstalk. We wouldn't want anyone lopping off your head by mistake, would we?"

Giggling to herself, she moved on as the baron too gaped in astonishment…and soon changed from that so that he began to quiver furiously with anger. There were more giggles now, these ones audible. They started with the servants, but soon they spread to some of the outlying nobles themselves…and all made the baron even angrier. Yet she paid him no mind, merely went on to the next. A young, handsome, and yet bald-headed noble was the nearest, and who she stopped in front of. "And you? What do you call yourself?"

This one hesitated a bit longer. After seeing what had happened with the previous two suitors, he wasn't eager to answer the princess. Yet after a few moments, out of custom he did so. "…Count Tristen."

"I don't believe your head could shine any brighter if it was made of glass!" She laughed mockingly. "Even the barest patch of land in the kingdom isn't half as barren! I feel as if at any moment a goose will land on your head and sit there until a gosling hatches from it! So I believe Count Egghead will suit you the best."

That "egg" that the princess had pointed out was beginning to turn about as red as a ruby by the time she was done with him. However, in spite of all of the ire she was enkindling, and all of the increasing laughter, now clearly coming from the other suitors as well as the servants themselves, and no longer mistakable…she only moved on and kept it up. The helpless ladies-in-waiting could only follow and try to make themselves look as meager as possible.

"Look at the lips on that one! Good day, Sir Fish-Face! Oh my…look at that oversized head on that twiggy body! There goes Pumpkinhead! Oh, and that one…look at how hairy he is! Hello, Bearskin! And this one, ho-ho! The size of that nose and how it curls! Buzzardface suits him the best!"

The laughter continued to build for a time along with the anger of each noble being so insulted. After all, she wasn't even bothering to talk to them now or ask their names. She simply threw out one title after another, giving them all haughty, condescending stares and holding her own head and neck high above them, almost as if she was wallowing through a sty of pigs rather than a group of eligible, rich bachelors. As time went on, the hall first filled with laughter from everyone at her mockeries. Yet that began to fade…for she didn't stop. She wouldn't. She seemed intent on going to each and every suitor and telling them how lowly they were compared to her, including the ones who laughed. And when that happened…the laughter turned to ire. All love that had previously been held for the princess, all infatuation for her beauty…that gradually gave way to rage when it became clear she didn't intend to pick any one of them but rather set them all up for mockery and scorn. Yet despite the growing angry looks in the room, despite the fact that a number of the guards puts hands on their swords when they saw some of the suitors on the brink of violence, and despite the fact that even the servants stopped laughing and began to sweat at the sight of all the angry men, she didn't care. She continued to shake her head, mock, laugh, and go about as if she was a goddess in the midst of curs.

As she just finished delighting herself with her last mockery, she looked to whoever was next. She saw many angry looks that he had already touched on, but paid them no mind…save being ones she had already "taken care of". However, at length, she saw one new figure.

When she did, she actually paused, and her superior smile ebbed a bit.

Although she had never met this man before, his appearance and, moreover, his mannerisms caught her. He was indeed quite handsome…more so than any of the other suitors. He had a young look about him, but also one firm and just "tough enough" to where he looked like a man who had done more than just sat around in his palace all day…perhaps even more than hunted for recreation, to boot. Someone with both intelligence and skill about him. He was also dressed a bit more splendidly than most. All in all…it made him stand out with a glow more than the others. Furthermore, he was still smiling softly. He looked neither impressed with Amelia's beauty nor amused by her cruel jokes nor furious at her mockery. He was simply there, seemingly immune to everything and in a good mood all of his own will.

She actually blinked for a moment at him. His appearance and demeanor alike took her back, made her forget her pride for just a brief instant…

But only for an instant.

Her smiled returned as she looked to him. It took her a moment longer for this one…for she could honestly, try as she might, not find something that she sought to take him to task for. However…she eventually focused on one thing.

"And who do we have here?"

"King Grymes, my lady." The man calmly responded, never losing his smile.

Amelia smiled at him, looking faux impressed. "Oho! A king, now?" She said without the slightest manners or acknowledgement. "Well, it seems you have quite the amusing name already…but I think I've thought of one more appropriate for that wiry piece of fuzz you've got stuck to your chin. You should be known as King Grizzlebeard! Ha!"

Turning away, she began to look to see if she had missed anyone.

"…I might take you up upon that, my lady."

Amelia actually stalled in mid-step. Her smile faltered again. No anger. No hurt. Just a calm response. She nearly looked back, to see if he truly didn't look angry at all after that insult…but, in the end, her pride wouldn't let her. It might hint that she was actually interested in him. And although he was, she had to admit, a bit fetching…more than anyone else…she knew she was too good for him or for any man and refused to be swayed. And so, she went on her way, continuing to look for whoever was left to insult.

And as for 'King Grizzlebeard', he merely continued to stand calm with hands folded behind himself, examining Amelia as she walked and having a thoughtful look.

* * *

King Tyrell had allowed himself to grow more enthused with time as it passed. He believed, by now, all of his fears were for nothing, and that if Amelia did make any "slips", she would fully be forgiven due to her peerless beauty. After all, he recalled well how enraptured everyone had been. By now, he was eager to meet with who looked to be his new son-in-law. Barring that, he was sure the "best of the best" had been selected and he would try to ingratiate himself with them and get to know them the rest of the night. In his heart of hearts, he hoped at least one of them would be King Grymes. Perhaps once he had seen Amelia's beauty, he had forgotten all of his earlier questions… The king was almost sure he had. This whole thing now had him in such a good mood, he thought of remarrying himself. Why not? He was still fairly young, and if Amelia ended up leaving the castle, it would be nice to have a son or at least a new child bouncing around the palace…

These thoughts, however, left him rather quickly as he made his approach to the ballroom. He had been staying on the upper floor in the West Wing, but as he began to descend the staircase in the Grand Hall…he heard something that didn't sound like talking or laughter. It sounded like a bit of an angry muttering…and a lot of noise.

Creasing his brow a bit in concern, he descended a bit faster to see what was the matter. He didn't like what happened when he did so. He soon heard more noise coming, and now it was distinctly upset. Soon he could make out bits of phrases too.

"…never been so insulted…"

"…miserable wretch…"

"…brought here just to mock us…"

"…I'd declare war on his pompous country if I had but 100 more men to my name…"

That last comment, naturally, caused the king to look rather shocked, and he quickly broke his stride and went into a run for the turn in the corner to the main part of the hall, in clear view of the doors to the ballroom. While still up an entire flight, he rounded the corner, looked down to them, and gaped at the sight.

The guests were pouring out of the room faster than if a fire had been set in there. And everyone looked about as red as a beat. The servants were moving as fast as they could to get their things and shuttle them out in an orderly fashion, but some were so infuriated they didn't even bother to claim their effects before going for the door. Outside, the coachman was struggling to bring all of their carriages forth only moments after having finally put the last one up in the stables. If that wasn't enough, some of the guests were being escorted out by the guards, who were struggling to keep them from bursting back into the room.

King Tyrell was shocked.

_What the devil just happened?_

Immediately, he began to descend the rest of the stairs as fast as he could. Yet none of the guests paid him any mind, but stormed out all the faster than before. Once he had reached the final steps, he finally spotted one that he remembered. The stout Prince Chamberlain had just been forcibly removed from the room, and now that he was out, he finally stopped trying to get in and told so to the guards, getting them to release him. He quickly smoothed himself out, but didn't bother with the servants. He moved to leave right away. Before he could get far, however, the king shouted.

"Prince Chamberlain! Wait! Where are you going?"

"Back to my country, and I wouldn't stay here another five minutes for half the gold in your kingdom!" He snapped back as he moved out. "I never want to see that shrew of yours ever again!"

The king froze at this, and looked shock. For a moment, a bit of a father's anger began to come out. "Now, just wait right there-"

Yet the prince was already gone into the crowd of leaving men. Baron Delbrook was among them. He stopped only long enough to take up his hat, and snapped back angrily at the king.

"Never before have I been so insulted in my entire life, King Tyrell!" He angrily shouted. "What was the purpose of this event?! To set us all up for mockery?!"

The dumbfounded king could only blink. "M…Mockery? I don't understand-"

A new suitor burst through the door, this one Count Tristen, who greeted the king with a sneer.

"If this was your idea of a joke, to set us up for ridicule before your wench of a daughter, then I didn't find it amusing in the least! If I wasn't such a gentleman, I would seriously consider open warfare with you for this insult!"

Now the king was totally frozen in surprise. Yet as the count turned and moved away, he only had more insults to bear as one suitor after another exited.

"The most appalling display I've ever seen!"

"The rudest, most prideful, most arrogant woman I have ever seen!"

"Never in my life have I met such a despicable creature…"

"This had to be a set up to put us to shame!"

"To think I used to volunteer my armed support for this nation in war! Not a second longer!"

"I wouldn't trade so much as a cask of mead with this country if they begged me to…"

"Him and his daughter ought to go into the stocks for a fortnight!"

One didn't say anything…simply spat at the feet of the king.

They only continued to grow worse and worse as time went on, leaving the king totally at a loss. He could do nothing but stare helplessly as they stormed out in a flood, hurling curses and insults of every kind imaginable. He was practically an object of mockery himself now as he received nothing but angry glares. He had intended to marry his daughter off to one of these noblemen…and instead he had earned the ire of every last one of them. Initially, he reacted only in shock and helplessness, able to do nothing but stare.

Yet that didn't last forever.

Slowly, he began to realize from the comments what had happened. Amelia had been presented with a choice of suitors…more so than any princess he had ever seen before had to choose from. Many of them were rich, powerful, handsome, and every other asset that anyone could have asked for. There were both great and lowly there alike, ones to evaluate only based on wealth, and ones to admire for their personality, charm, and looks. And yet…she had dismissed them all with insults. Far from choosing any one of them, she had slapped them all in the face. Far from choosing a good future or husband for herself, she had brought disgrace and dishonor on the kingdom itself.

And when King Tyrell realized that…his tendency to dote upon her…all of his spoiling…all of his praise and oversights…slowly began to fade away. And they were replaced with nothing less than anger, which grew higher and burned hotter with every new suitor who came by and told her how insolent Amelia had been. As they continued to come forth, his own face went from shock to irritation to even rage as his pallor turned red, until his teeth grit and his hands were balled into fists as he quivered where he stood.

The outflow of guests was so rapid that it might have been immediate if there were not servants, doors, guards, and other things to slow them down. The group seemed so eager to leave that some of them left before their coaches were summoned to get them themselves. Yet eventually, the deluge came to an end. The voices began to slowly diminish as the group went for the exit. The grand hall began to slowly quiet down…until King Tyrell, quite enraged at this point, could hear himself fume.

Only at that point, as the remaining servants and guards began to retreat to avoid his wrath, for never had they seen him so furious…did the last guest, very calmly, walk out into the hall.

King Grymes looked around a bit while in the threshold of the ballroom, and then finally exited, soon spotting the king. "Oh, hello, your majesty. I didn't know you were out here."

On seeing one remaining guest still acting perfectly calm and civil…it was enough to make the king's anger abate just a bit. Enough, at least, to calm his temper and resume a more proper position.

"Oh…King Grymes…" He said hesitantly, for he had nearly blown his top, thinking he was alone now. "Are you…leaving as well?"

The young king blinked. "I was intending to, your majesty. It seems as if the gathering is at an end. All of the guests started to leave at once, and when they did Lady Amelia also took her leave out the opposite entrance. I figured it would be somewhat awkward if I stayed, sir."

"Oh…" The older king answered. "Does that mean that Amelia was…'civil' to you?"

The young king actually made a small smile and a weak snicker. "Heh…not exactly, your majesty. She picked out a new name for me, 'King Grizzlebeard'…as well as new names for just about everyone else. I would assume that was why they chose to leave so soon."

King Tyrell let out a groan as he rolled his eyes, and then looked to the younger sire. "King Grymes, I cannot begin to apologize for my daughter's conduct. I swear by Heaven above that I never intended for this to-"

However, the young king cut him off with a small chuckle and a nod. "Of course, of course, your majesty. I believe that. I may be young and single, but I'm not a fool to believe you would have planned a very expensive insult of every kingdom and landholding you could find. I'll be more than happy to support any letters formally apologizing for this event with ones of my own. Once these men realize how foolish it would be to have called them here just to insult them, I'm sure they will come around as well and realize this was not your fault."

The king gave a sigh of relief. "I would be eternally grateful, your majesty," He responded. A moment later, however, he frowned and showed a bit of anger this time. "…but I have no excuse to give for my daughter's reprehensible, inexcusable conduct. That I will have to bear on her behalf."

The young king simply watched him as Tyrell went down the rest of the stairs, letting out a sigh that was a mixture of irritation and exhaustion, and began to walk over to the nearest column. "This may have been an insult to all of these gentlemen…but I assure you all that the greatest insult was to me. The greatest shock. The greatest disgrace." Reaching a column, he leaned against it tiredly. "I never dreamed she would do something so outrageous. She nearly incited a _war_ tonight, King Grymes! How many lives would have paid the price for her foolish pride?"

He exhaled and bowed his head.

"…I have none but myself to blame for this."

The young king began to step forward. "Oh, surely you can't be serious, my lord."

"I am." He immediately answered. "When Amelia was a child, she was as sweet, gentle, kind and dutiful as you would ever imagine. She was truly perfect then. Then my wife died. And I thought I could chase her grief away by giving her everything…by showering her with luxury and happiness and praise and fulfilling her every desire. I kept her teachers from being harsh with her. I never punished her no matter what she did wrong. And for all of her bad behaviors that came…I only rewarded her all the more and winked and nodded at her. All of this…all of these disgraces are what I have justly earned. I failed Amelia."

"Don't blame yourself, King Tyrell." The young man said quietly. "If fatherhood was something easy to master that anyone could pick up, it would have no importance to it. You too were broken up, remember. Perhaps you felt you were somehow giving your dearly departed all the time and attention you wished you had given her before by pouring it onto the princess along with everything else. There is still time to make amends."

"Amends?" The king echoed, letting out a bitter chuckle. He shook his head. "My daughter is 17, your majesty. She's no longer a child that I could put her over my knee and spank her. She's a young woman…a young woman that I will have to bear as a disgrace for the rest of my remaining years. I cannot take her anywhere now. Not to any balls or diplomatic affairs or anything else. Can you imagine what would happen if I sent her with a message of peace to an invading nation? My kingdom would be burned to the ground. And what man will have her now? Who would ever want to share a roof, even in the largest palace in all of Europe, with such a woman? A person who thinks even the hosts of Heaven are too little for her?"

The king sighed and kept his head lowered at that. As for King Grymes, he was silent for a bit. After a moment, however, he gave a shrug.

"Your majesty…the greatest thing I have ever learned in this life was not from a book or headmaster, but from personal experience. And that is that people can change. And they can change more than any of you would ever believe. There are all sorts in this world that seem stiff-necked and obstinate and set in wicked ways. But I believe all of them can become better, and that there is no age limit upon such a thing." He gave a shrug. "Some precious stones just need to have their dirt cleaned off with a few wipes to see their shine. On the other hand…some beautiful wood figures only come clear when you work and carve at them for a while." He paused. "And then…then there are the world's most beautiful diamonds…which only come to be when the filthiest coal is given a great deal of pressure and time."

By now, the older king had paused enough to look up at the younger. He stared back simply for a short while, but then finally smiled a bit, and then gave a bow.

"…Well, your majesty, I will take my leave now. As I said before, I will be more than willing to write my own correspondence to support yours, so only do the courtesy of sending me an envoy telling me to whom you are writing and I will give my own. Good day, my lord."

Rising again, he turned and began to move out. He had only gone half the distance, however, when he paused. He turned back to King Tyrell, causing the man to look up, and appeared thoughtful. In the end, he smiled a bit.

"In truth, I am not particularly fond of the name 'Grymes'…so perhaps I will keep the title 'Grizzlebeard' for a while and see if it suits me. I dare say it might elicit fewer smiles."

Giving another bow, he turned and began to walk out again. In moments, the door had opened and shut one last time.

The king was left standing there for a while, looking back after him, and thinking about what the young king had told him. As he did, and now that he stood alone in the chamber with his thoughts and concerns about Amelia, and his anger had room to start returning to him, he narrowed his gaze and made his hand into a fist again.

"The young king may be wiser than he knows… I think it is high time that I gave my coddled daughter a touch of pressure to refine her filthiness…"

* * *

Amelia sighed back at her reflection as she removed her tiara and set it down nearby in front of it. She was alone now except for the maidservant, who had far too little peace from her but had resumed her subservient status with her head bowed and at her side. Luckily, Amelia wasn't truly focused on giving her grief at the moment.

"I honestly can't believe father. I mean…believing that gaggle of dogs would be worthy of me? I was the only one who truly felt insulted. They were so ridiculous looking! I don't think I had seen such a sorry lot since the last carnival… To think those silly men thought they could marry a lady like myself!"

She sighed.

"…But why am I bothering to tell you that? It's not as if _you'll_ ever have that problem." She stated in a bored tone to the maidservant.

As always, she said nothing and didn't protest, merely waited for her next order.

"Truly, when father plays such a childish joke on me, how can he expect me to do anything else? And yet Beatrice and Persephone looked so unsettled. I suppose when you're only a lower class noblewoman of more plain demeanor and harsher physique, you could find any of those swine fetching. But for someone like me? I need someone more worthy of me…"

Suddenly, she heard her bedroom door opening.

Immediately, her look became cross as she turned to it. "What fool of a servant is daring to barge in here without knocking or announcing-"

She cut herself off soon afterward, however…seeing it was her father.

Her face immediately softened, although, even now, it kept some of its prideful air. "Oh, hello father. I thought it was that wretched servant of mine neglecting her duty to knock first. Really, now…she should know at this point that no one can just come in here to a lady of my stature. She should have announced you before you came. I should dock her pay for that…"

"There is no fault with your servant. I did not ask her to announce me."

This tone caused Amelia to immediately pause and her pride to ebb a bit. The tone her father used was…different. Usually as warm as any father would be with a little girl, it was now far straighter and more mature. She hadn't heard that tone from him anywhere other than when someone was brought into his presence for judgment…and that was a confusing thing to her. It also, quite honestly, made her uneasy… She looked fully to the king, and soon saw worse.

His face was darker and sterner than she had ever seen it before in her life…even more so than to people he was displeased with in the past. He looked as if he was barely restraining a great anger.

"Katy, leave us. I need to talk with my daughter." He stated coldly, never looking away from Amelia.

By now, the princess was beginning to grow uncomfortable. The servant quickly bowed and went away, and Amelia suddenly realized, for the first time in her life, she didn't want to be alone with her father at the moment. He seemed to almost generate cold and a dark shadow over him as his eyes focused on the princess. Until now, Amelia had meant to complain to her father about sending that gaggle of buffoons to marry her. Yet that complaint left her mind completely as she saw him now. When the servant shut the door to her room, she felt almost as if she had been locked in a cell with a bear.

The king stared on at her for a few moments longer in silence, but in that time his face only turned red and tightened with fury.

"You foolish, spoiled brat… Do you have _any_ idea what you did to me today?!" He nearly snapped at her.

It was with such force and violence that Amelia immediately shrank back and instinctively began to put her arms in front of her. However, she also blinked in confusion. "Did to you? I said no insult to you, father…"

_"No?!"_ He instantly shot back, making the princess go silent again. "No! No insult! No insult save spitting in the face of every kingdom in the country for a hundred miles in all directions! No insult except making me look like a fool and antagonist to every single one of them! No insult except ruining relations between my kingdom and all others on every side of me!"

He advanced a step as his hands went into tight fists, causing Amelia to grow more fearful and shrink back more.

"You had the pick of the finest nobles in the land, and it wasn't enough for you to say no to them! You had to anger them all as well!"

Amelia blinked a bit at this, but then protested. "But father…did you see them all? Did you see how ugly they all were? Some of them were practically swineherds! You have to agree that I was _far_ too good for even the best of them! You must admit…it was a bit insulting to me to even bring them here and suggest I actually marry one of them…"

This made the king freeze…before he turned more livid than ever.

"Insulting…to you?" He slowly answered, as his face turned redder than before. "Insulting to you?! _Insulting to you?!_ You simple little twit! Some of those men were richer and more powerful than _I _am! Do you have any idea what they could have given you?!"

Amelia only let out a whine. "But they were so pathetic-looking… How could any of them be a match for someone as beautiful and proper as I am? How could they offer anything to me when I was so far above them? Father, it was almost humiliating to even be in the same room as those mangy curs! They should have been grateful I said anything to them at all!"

That was the breaking point for the king. He advanced sharply and actually peeled back his hand, clearly looking like he meant to slap Amelia across the fact. The princess was so shocked at this sudden change that she actually spilled over her cushioned seat and landed on the ground, letting out a gasp as Tyrell advanced on her. For a moment, she honestly thought he would strike her. And for a moment, he came to her and stiffened, looking as if he would if given the slightest excuse. He struggled and buckled a moment, and then finally let out a cry of anger and exasperation as he let his hand fall to his side.

"The only reason I do not let my hand fly is because you are indeed a woman now and my own flesh and blood… Yet were you but a year younger I would be tempted to have you flogged! Never before had I thought your pride would have reached such heights that it turned you into this vain idol of a girl! I desire nothing more than to give you ever blow you have ever earned over your past seventeen years of life that I withheld from you, for now I see you deserved every single one and five-fold more!

"If I had the slightest desire to show you mercy, daughter of mine, your blatant disregard for your kingdom, your father, or anything other than your own pride has sealed your fate. Before I was willing to give you your choice of any lord or noble you wished. But since you have cast such a generous offer aside, that offer is now forever lost to you. I swear by myself and by God above, whatever unwed man comes to this castle next…whether he be the greatest king in the land or the lowliest swineherd…that man shall be your husband."

Amelia went wide-eyed in total shock, showing more horror and fear now than at anything else. "What?! Father, no! That's unthinkable! A lady of my-"

_"Silence!" _The king snapped back, immediately making her go quiet. "If you have any sense at all you will keep quiet lest I do something far more severe that both of us, I assure you, will regret! What I have said is said! You thought nothing of me when you chased away those suitors, so now I shall have no concern for you! You have eaten up all ties of kinship to me! Not only will that man be your husband, you will receive not so much as a copper coin from me as dowry! Nothing save the clothing you wear on the day you are married! No wedding feasts…no carriages…no gifts…_nothing!_ Since you put such things in such low esteem, you'll not have a single one! So if I were you, my daughter, I would spend the rest of today in prayer that whoever comes calling next is a man of wealth, because you will get no other support save his!"

With that, Tyrell turned about and stormed out of the room, yanking open the door in his wake, causing the servants on the other side to flee, and slamming it shut behind him.

Amelia was left sitting on the floor, dumbfounded and blinking at what had just happened.

* * *

The first week passed rather miserably. With the threat still fresh in Amelia's mind and her father's look stern and even angry, her normal pride and aloofness abated a bit. She wasn't necessarily better, but even if her servants made a mistake or were slow once or twice, she didn't give them her normal scorn. She even held her head a bit lower as she went around the palace. Often, she simply stayed in her room and looked out her window, wondering what suitor would come to the door next that she would be compelled to marry, and full of all sorts of fear that it would be the lowliest nobleman or even simply a hired servant, although she didn't truly believe he would go that far…save for a few times in which she saw the anger in his eyes. Yet there were no more visitors after the gathering. Even the normal noblemen and women who would show up to the castle as a matter of daily affairs stayed away.

By the second week, the princess slowly began to realize she had safeguarded herself more so than she thought. Her rudeness had so repulsed the entire surrounding country that none of them would come to the palace if the king gave them a bag of gold. While the king's ire only cooled enough to be controllable and she still had to watch herself around him, her prideful nature returned around her servants as she slowly felt herself start to relax, although she still often looked out the window. However, in spite of that, no one ever came, and she began to ease in that regard as well.

When the third week came and went, Amelia had almost completely resumed her old mannerisms. She had forgotten almost all about the anger her father had for her. More than that, she never once thought she had been out of line, and had once again resumed being just as prideful and arrogant as before. Again, her servants and ladies-in-waiting had to bear her nature, and she even began to hold her head high before her father once again. Although he no longer gave her angry looks, he continued to look at her sternly…but she no longer thought anything of it. She assumed her father had forgotten all about his angry episode and had forgiven her affront as he forgave all of her affronts before this one. She thought little to nothing more of the whole incident and ceased to look out the window any longer, although, in truth, no one came who would have been an eligible bachelor anyway.

On this particular morning, she had all but forgotten the incident. Although she had already been dressed, neither of her ladies-in-waiting were present that day. One was ill that morning while the other had a prior engagement of a private matter, and so she found herself alone in her room. Although her servants awaited her right outside her door to her bedroom, she found no need to call them. In truth…she was bored at the moment. Being alone with her thoughts, she nevertheless gave no consideration to what her father had said earlier and had not uttered a single prayer on his suggestion. She merely stared out in boredom from her armchair.

She kept a bookshelf in her room, but she had long since read all of the books twice, and the quietness was irritating her that day. She thought of going to the court musicians to see if she could get any music from them to entertain her…

Yet even as she thought of that, something slowly entered her ear. A pleasant sound, drifting in over the breeze and wind as she sat in her room, flowed in through the open window. It first came to her like a dream, so that she was scarcely aware of what was going on until she let her hand bounce up and down to the tune and smiled a bit in spite of herself. As it grew louder, her wits slowly came to her, and she realized it was the sound of a violin-like instrument. Very pleasant to the ear and lovely to listen to. It made her incline her head more and smile a bit wider.

_That's odd…I don't think the court violinists play that beautifully… And besides, they never play outside…_

She realized a violinist had to have come to the castle as a guest or on some occasion. She had never heard such lovely music before…so it had to be someone of great skill. Perhaps a country-renown player. As the music grew louder, her curiosity got the better of her, and she rose from her armchair and moved to the window to look out. She saw the lovely terrace, set with bricks and cut stone, planted with beautiful gardens, lovely flowers, huge stone urns and vases, and hanging arbors. The sun was pleasant and clear as she looked outside of it, trying to find the source of the lovely music. At first, she saw only gardeners and a few servants going about their work. There was one page running off on an errand, but she still failed to see the player.

At last, her eyes looked down and closer to the castle, and when they did…her smile evaporated as her look darkened.

It was no professional musician at all. Rather, it was nothing more than a simple peasant…a beggar by the looks of him. His clothes were ratty, old, tattered, and worn, looking like he hadn't changed them in a while, and they were stained and filthy. The smell was so bad that she could actually catch a whiff from here that made her nose wrinkle in disgust. The violin was, in truth, a fiddle, and a bit stained and dark of one itself. Definitely one that had seen a lot of use. The man's skin was dirty and tanned from spending a lot of days outside and roughed up from the experience. He wore a tall, sloped, wide-brimmed hat over most of his face, but she could just make out his dirty hair coming from beneath. When he turned his head one way, she caught that his face had a messy, unkempt beard and mustache. He moved somewhat stiffly, like a man who had sustained an injury in the past, but still managed to keep moving forward. In spite of this state, he didn't seem terribly old. Late 20s at the most. It seemed a bit odd that he would already look so old and worn out for one so young.

Amelia nearly hissed on seeing him. Not only was she disappointed that the lovely music was coming from some filthy beggar, but the fact that he was dirtying up her garden with his presence made her all the more irritable. She couldn't believe someone so wretched was allowed so close to the palace. Although his music continued to come out fair and lovely, she no longer paid it any mind. To her, it was as filthy as the rest of him now, and she refused to hear anything but a cacophony. She would have yelled at him that moment to begone herself if she didn't want to disgrace herself by actually saying a word to such a miserable creature.

She was only more insulted when the violinist came right up to the front of the castle and then paused before the front doors, standing there and playing. Clearly, he was doing so to beg for some food or money. Amelia was outraged. Why had this disgusting eyesore been allowed to come this close to the castle in the first place? Why did her father insist on keeping the front gates open to just let whatever filth wished walk right up to the gates? She thought of calling in her servant to go and run to the guards; to tell them to chase this dirty beggar and his noise off.

It was too late, however. The door to the castle slowly opened, revealing the doorman servant on the other side. She sighed to herself, and began to hope that he would chase him off, but she doubted he would. Her father…always he had to leave them with something. In that case, she hoped he would hurry up and give him a few coins and send him on his way as soon as possible.

However, the servant seemed to talk with the fiddler for a while. He didn't send him away or present him with money, but got into a discussion with him. Watching this, Amelia only continued to frown. Why wasn't he driving him off already? He had no business littering their front door. Her anger began to grow to the doorman for not having dealt with him by now…

Yet she soon saw something that shocked her even more than before. The doorman stood to one side…_and let the filthy beggar come inside. _The fiddler only paused long enough for a humble, grateful bow, before entering. The door was soon shut.

Amelia was left staring in open-mouthed shock. What in the world was that wretched servant thinking?! He should be sacked immediately for this error! It was one thing to give money out on behalf of the king…but something completely different to let one of those dirty creatures sully the palace! The princess had never felt so insulted to actually be under the same roof as some miserable country peon. How could that worthless man make such a mistake? Her father only said to give a bit of money to whatever beggar showed up at the door! He never said to let them inside the actual castle! He never…

Yet as Amelia's rage began to grow, it suddenly popped like a bubble, leaving her in a far more terrible shock, as she remembered her father's words.

_I swear by myself and by God above, whatever unwed man comes to this castle next…whether he be the greatest king in the land or the lowliest swineherd…that man shall be your husband._

Never before in Amelia's life had she felt such horror. Her skin paled and she almost felt her heart freeze in her breast. Surely…surely her father didn't mean it… Surely he didn't think someone like this…this…this _pig_ would be her husband…

…Right?

At once, the princess was seized with a fresh bout of fear that she had never felt before. Her anger was totally forgotten as she began to quiver all over. She couldn't just sit here waiting. She had to know for certain. Quickly, she rose from the window and moved as fast as she had ever done so in her heeled shoes for the doorway.

Amelia neither requested servants, guards, or any other escort. She burst through the door in such a hurry that her retinue looked to her, but she said not a word to them. She immediately took off down the hallway, making for the grand hall. All the while, her fears gave her no rest. Although she couldn't honestly picture it…she couldn't shake the dreadful fear in her heart that her father would live up to his claim. She couldn't move fast enough to get there for her tastes…but, frankly, even if she had been able to run in her shoes and gown it wouldn't have been nearly fast enough. Even flying wouldn't have been fast enough. The castle, which before had always seemed too small for someone of her stature and beauty, suddenly seemed far too massive.

At last, she made it to the main hall. To her further horror, from her balcony, she could hear voices below. It wasn't of the head doorman…but rather her father himself. He had come out to see the fiddler in person! That confirmed Amelia's worst terrors even if she couldn't believe it… Yet before she could even see either of them, she could already hear him echoing as he spoke.

"…What trade do you practice?"

"No trade, your grace. I may appear young and healthy and not accustomed to the hardest work, but that's only because I've been plagued by misfortune. I was a farmer last year…the only son of a family who was killed in the last cholera outbreak. Yet as I was trying to hitch my ass to my wagon one day, the beast kicked out and struck me square in the back. My backbone wasn't quite the same after that, and for a time I feared I was paralyzed. I lay in the field for two days before my neighbors even found me and got me into bed. I spent the next six months spending half of whatever means I had to care for myself, and when I finally got up to move again…I could not possibly work as I had before. Even now it's all I can do to raise my arms enough to play this fiddle, and I can't lift anything even a pound heavier. I could no longer put the power I had into hoeing or plowing, and while waiting in vain that I would recover my strength, I sold the rest of what I had. Now…I have nothing save this fiddle and the clothes on my back. As it's the only thing I can even do now, I merely go about wandering and playing when I can."

"I see. What about lodging?"

"None, my lord. I am a wanderer. But it is of little matter. Even if I did have a house, I could scarcely tend it. It takes me forever to move around now."

"You are still young, sir. With just a bit of water and perhaps a razor, I'm sure you'd be quite a handsome fellow as well. Could you not find a wife to help you in your troubles?"

Amelia went rather rigid on hearing this, and quickly inched closer. However…she dared not show her face. She only went to the corner and listened. As she did, she heard the fiddler laugh bitterly.

"A fine thing, a wife!" He sighed. "What woman would have me now? As hard as it is for me to move, impoverished as I am…I couldn't even tell her simply to tend to all the housework in my state. To feed us, both of us would need to work. What maiden is there who would choose such a lifestyle?"

The king was silent for a moment, before he said something that chilled Amelia's blood. "…But it would do you a great deal of good to have a partner, would it not? Someone to share in your toil and help you? Surely, you could manage even a small shack with the aid of another."

Amelia felt like she would faint, hoping she wasn't hearing what she thought she was. As for the fiddler, he finally assented. "It would, but that is an idle question. As I said, who would have me?"

"I cannot answer that, my good sir…but I do know of a fair and lovely maiden who needs a husband but hasn't the luxury of being allowed to choose whom. As it just so happens, that maiden is within this very castle."

The princess froze, becoming as still as a statue…before she heard the words she dreaded above all else.

"Radcliff, would you be so good as to summon Princess Amelia here?"

"At once, sir."

Yet that wasn't necessary. As soon as she heard that, her heart seemed to stop beating. She still had enough power, however, to rise and quickly run to the edge, snap around, and stare down the flight in shock.

"Father, no!"

At last, she beheld the scene below. Aside from the normal guards and retinue, the king was there with his closest manservant, as well as the dirty beggar from outside. He looked up a bit when Amelia made herself seen, but as for her father…his back remained to her for a moment. The servant, Radcliff, looked up first, before King Tyrell looked slightly behind him, but without pity or mirth.

"Nevermind, Radcliff. It seems the young lady is already here. Instead, please fetch the chaplain at once. There'll be no large and expensive feast or ceremony. The sooner I can put this arrogant wench out of my sight, the better."

Amelia's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. More than anything, she felt shock. Aside from that she felt grave insult at what her father was doing. Was this even legal? Morally permissible? To let a high born woman like her marry that…that…dirty stain of a man?! He couldn't be serious…he just couldn't be! Yet she could only gaze in horror as Radcliff gave a bow and immediately went to carry out the order. She realized that her father was in earnest…

As for the fiddler, he looked a bit puzzled. "I'm…not certain I understand you, your grace…"

"This is my daughter, Amelia, good sir." King Tyrell answered, gesturing up the stairs to the princess, who could only continue to gape. "I give her to you as a wife. She recently forfeited her right to choose her own husband, and I swore, most explicitly, that she would marry the next bachelor who came to the door."

"But…but he's…he's a mere serf!" Amelia protested. "Even the worst of those noblemen would have been a thousand times greater than him!"

"And you could have had the _greatest_ of those noblemen, but you refused them along with everyone else." The king retorted sharply.

The fiddler still looked less than enthused.

"Whatever is the matter, sir? Do not tell me her beauty is insufficient for you." The king answered him in a calm tone. "Or do you really intend to spurn the gift of a king?"

The young man hesitated, but then shook his head. "No…no, of course not, sir. And your daughter is quite lovely. But…are you certain you wish to have such a woman married to such a man of low status? I have not even a single thaler for dowry…"

"Do not trouble yourself with such things." The king answered. "I assure you…I would consider you cheated if you gave me even a single thaler for her."

Amelia nearly stammered.

Still, the dirty beggar seemed reluctant. "…Please do not take this the wrong way, my lord. She is indeed quite beautiful to behold. Yet as I said before…what I truly need more than anything is a wife to assist me in providing for our mutual livelihood. I haven't even a shack to keep her in at the moment… Can she carry out more manual labor and tasks?"

The princess nearly quivered in a mixture of rage and shock at the thought of what she just heard. _Surely father does not expect me to toil and work like some common peasant?!_

"My daughter esteems herself as superior to every woman in the entire continent," The king simply responded. "And she prides herself on being well-learned. I am certain, therefore, that any task you set before her she will easily meet and excel compared to any other wife you might choose…assuming that what she has told me for years is not arrogant boasting."

The fiddler paused for a moment here, seeming to consider this. "…Even if she is not perfectly suited to manual labor, I am hardly in a position where I can be choosy." He admitted. He thought for a moment, but then exhaled. "And I don't want to insult your good will either, my lord. I'm certain any other unwed peasant would be more than grateful."

"Good." The king answered with a small smile forming. "I regret to inform you that I already vowed I would give my daughter no wedding present or gift on the send off, and nor shall she take any of my wealth with her. However, I leave her the clothes on her back and whatever she happens to be wearing the moment. They are all very finely made and I am sure you can get a good amount of money from them."

This was the last straw. Amelia shouted out again. "Father, this is a sin! How can you-"

She was cut off as his head snapped to her in a flash, his anger from three weeks ago fully recovered.

"Not another word, Amelia! Radcliff is bringing a minister and when he does you will take your vows and sign the marriage document or I will have you put in stocks until you do!"

The princess was rendered mute, stunned at how violently he spoke to her. Yet he continued from there.

"Do not confuse the fact that I was able to keep my temper in check for three weeks with tolerance for your insults or forgiveness for your crime! I have given you to this man, and you are now his! I want nothing more to do with you! You still haven't the slightest idea how much injury you have done me or my kingdom nor the slightest remorse for your reprehensible conduct! In three weeks, you are as stiff-necked and prideful as ever!"

He paused for only a moment to inhale and quiet his voice. "You are loathsome to me, child. No nobleman will have you now…or me, for that matter…as a result of your reprehensible conduct. Therefore I will not have you either. Once you are married, you are to depart this castle at once and forever. You're no longer my daughter. You will not even be given a single kruzer if you ever darken my threshold again. All you will receive is a slammed door in your face. See where your foolish pride gets you when you must deal with others for everything."

The princess was left standing and staring blankly. She wanted to say more. She wanted to whine. A small part of her…a very, very, _very_ small part…considered actually getting on her knees and pleading with her father to reconsider, actually diminishing herself into such a lowly position. Yet even if she had, it was pointless. Her father's patience and mercy had been driven from him. He only felt anger for her now.

Amelia could only stand there and await her fate…the chaplain returning to bind her to the dirty man before her, and to be driven from the luxury of her palace forever. She couldn't believe it. It was ridiculous…impossible…that a woman of her grace and beauty would actually be united to that…that…_thing_. That she would have to live with him…be his wife…living somewhere miserable and dirty and poor…

She couldn't take it. She fell to her knees and all but fainted.

* * *

Amelia was so out of sorts, so shocked, so shaken, so unable to adjust to what had suddenly happened to her that she was hardly able to realize what transpired. She thought it was all some grim nightmare, that at any moment she would wake up. Reality only slowly settled in, and when it did…it felt as if she was being thrown into a dungeon and locked away for the rest of her natural life. Even the sun seemed to shed less light and the night seemed darker and cooler.

Her father had been right. Radcliff returned with the chaplain, as bewildered as the others, and even more so when the command was given to marry Amelia to the filthy beggar. The woman, by now, was practically apoplectic when she was brought down by the guards. It wasn't a good "service", if one could even call it that. Even while the king set him up to go about the reading of the vows, he had another servant bring forth the marriage document he had filled out three weeks ago, the same day he had decided he would have Amelia marry the first eligible bachelor that arrived. No guests. No witnesses save for Radcliff, the king, and whatever servants were present. No exchange of rings or musicians or flowers. No wedding feast afterward. No dance between the bride and groom. Just a few curt phrases. Amelia thought only for a moment of refusing to say anything…until she looked hopelessly to her father again and saw that he fully intended on carry out his other threat of letting her suffer like a prisoner until she agreed. There wasn't the slightest bit of pity left in his eyes. She even thought he might put her at spearpoint. Reluctantly, she said the two words she had to say, and she found herself bound to the dirty peasant like a prisoner bound to an iron ball. Soon after, she was sent out of the castle along with him…and she heard the heavy doors slammed shut behind her and locked. Not long after that, she was marched outside of the courtyard.

Although Amelia had been out on carriage rides, she had never been on her feet outside of the courtyard. Naturally, it was both a different view as well as a much slower way to walk and move. It was also far more tiring, and the princess soon found it nearly impossible to walk in her shoes. She was an awkward sight to begin with – walking alongside a peasant in filthy stained clothes in raiment fit for a palace. And she had to go some distance too from the castle along a rough, dirty road, barely capable of being managed by a woman in heels with a long dress like hers, before they finally neared the first township. By that time, the dust of the road had stained her shoes and her dress trail, and the heat of the day had made her sweat quite a bit, to say nothing of the fact that she was rather winded and tired from having struggled that far in restrictive clothing.

From there, the peasant directed her to one store. It was a tailor's, but one far simpler than the royal tailor. It smelled of must and age, and the clothing was so drab and old that had her wits been fully about her, she would have hated to have ever even looked at the threshold, let alone actually step into the shop. But still being dazzled from everything that happened, and still childishly wishing this was a dream she'd wake up from, she was led to the dark changing area and told to remove her current clothes. She probably wouldn't have done it herself. After all, she hadn't dressed herself in her entire life. Her maids always did it. But the tailor's wife was there to assist, and soon she was stripped and passed a different set of clothing. Although it was "new", she hated even feeling the coarse, rough, basic, and ugly material against her. She thought she was practically filthy already as she was clad in what she felt was only rubbish. It took a long time to get her dressed in it, as she was in an apoplectic state the entire time and barely helped.

When she was finally done, however, the fiddler was still gone. He came back about five minutes later, though. The tailor had paid handsomely, or at least as handsomely as he could, for the dress, and he had sold the jewelry and accessories as well for a bit more. With that all taken care of, he led Amelia, now matching him far better than before although still too clean, both in face and attire, out to the front. This whole time, he had said very little to her. Yet now he finally spoke directly.

"…You should keep your hair tied back and hidden." He stated. "You'll only attract dirty men letting it hang like that and it'll only get in your way. We have a wagon that will take us to my home country. Now that I have a bit of money, I am going to make a deal with an old friend for a parcel of property and a roof besides."

Amelia said nothing. She still seemed to be in more of a daze than anything, although she was beginning to come to her senses at last. She went outside with him, vaguely aware that they were going somewhere. However, on exiting…she saw nothing to take them in. No carriage or even a true riding wagon…just an old cart tethered to a nag of a horse filled with old hay.

She blinked at this and looked about. Finally, she seemed to come out of her daze a bit, enough to speak, at any rate. "Where is your carriage?"

The fiddler, who had begun to lead her to what looked like the wagon, suddenly stopped and looked back to her. "…Carriage?"

"Your carriage, yes." She said with more force, coming around further. "I assume that's what you meant by 'wagon' when you said it would be taking us to your home country."

The man merely stared back at her and blinked. "No…I meant wagon, as in this wagon that I'm giving the man five kruzers for."

The woman blinked again, her jaw beginning to hang open in shock. "You cannot be serious. Look at how filthy it is back there! Look at all of that straw! Do you have any idea how dirty and itchy we'll be?"

On hearing this, the man driving the wagon frowned. "Look, if you don't want the ride, you don't want the ride, and I'll be happy to-"

Immediately, the fiddler put up a hand. "No, no! It's fine! It's just fine!" He immediately looked back to the woman, his eyes burning as his lips tightened. He spoke in a quieter voice. "It is a good forty miles to my country, and I don't think you would like to go the entire distance on foot. We were lucky to find that this man was going that way."

"But this is absurd!" The woman retorted. "You expect me to sit in that foulness with who knows how much rot and fleas and-"

"Unless you'd prefer to walk forty miles, which I doubt after how worn out you were just from leaving the castle, I suggest you stop complaining and get into the wagon before you offend this farmer into forgetting the whole thing." The fiddler answered sharply, but still quietly.

Amelia actually fumed. She frowned as she glared at the disgusting hay cart. It was outrageous. Now that she was coming fully to her senses from the initial shock, she found herself rather angry. It was bad enough that this peasant had taken her fine clothes and accessories and traded them for the near-sackcloth, in her opinion, that she was wearing now, told her to put up her beautiful hair which was as precious as silver, and was dragging her along to some meager, dirty country…but to further have her ride in a bunch of moldy hay like the common gutter trash… She had never been so insulted. Didn't he have any idea of how to treat a proper woman? Hadn't he the slightest notion of what a wonderful gift he had received by getting her hand in marriage? This ignorant peasant wasn't even appreciative of what a blessing he had! She thought of turning her back on this, scoffing at him, and telling him and this filthy farmer that they had no right to treat someone like her in this way…

Yet as she thought of that…she realized her feet were still sore…this road was bumpy and uneven unlike the smooth palace floors…

_I don't believe this!_ She thought in anger, as she tightened her jaw, balled her hands into fists, and with a great deal of discomfort marched over to the wagon and stood behind it. Once there, she stood upright and put her head in the air. The fiddler himself moved over to the wagon and nearly got in…but paused on seeing her do this.

"…What are you doing?" He asked.

"Waiting for the peasant driving to get down and to help me in, of course." She answered. "I am a lady, am I not?"

On hearing this, the farmer snorted. "I think your wife could learn some manners, friend."

Amelia immediately lowered her head and glared at him. "You insolent little-"

The fiddler again interjected. "Sorry, sir! Forgive her! She had a spoiled upbringing!" He said quickly to the farmer, and then looked to her, once again glaring hard. "Look…my back is in such poor shape I can barely get in this myself. You'll just have to help yourself in."

This only made the young woman blink. "My…myself? You mean dirty my hands and risk a splinter actually _touching_ this rusted, old, dirty thing and-"

"Believe me, before this week is done, you're going to have so much dirt on your hands you'll think you'll never get them clean again." The fiddler cut off.

This only horrified Amelia. "What?! What in the world are-"

He cut her off with a groan. "Look…just get in the cart before he drives away, alright?"

Amelia found herself insulted once again. She had always had a footman help her into the carriage at the palace. Now she had to actually reach out and touch the wagon to help herself in? She couldn't stand it. It was bad enough that she had to actually ride in the dirty thing… She actually looked uncomfortable and a bit disgusted, but finally, very slowly, she attempted to get in without touching it. However, it was no good. Her body was too delicate from years of non-use. She kept wavering every time she tried to step up, and had to recoil.

The farmer sighed after her fifth time. "Come on! I haven't got all day!"

Amelia cast him a dark look, but then, finally, in exasperation, winced, reached out, grabbed the edge of the wagon and pulled herself up. She had never felt anything so rough and dirty. Her fair hands could feel grime go off onto them, and she pulled so hard that she not only yanked herself into the wagon, but she spilled forward and landed in the hay.

Immediately, she was filled with revulsion. Her knees landed in a wet spot, and all sorts of rotten filth underneath the hay began to soak through the knees of her new simple work dress, and her hands plunged through the hay and into something gooey beneath. She actually shrieked and pulled herself up in horror, scrambling around and onto her rear end…only to land in more wetness. Giving another cry, she pulled herself up and sat in the hay…which was also too thin and in a wet spot. Recoiling again, she quickly pulled herself up and finally sat on a thicker portion, out of the mess at last.

With that done, the fiddler, watching the whole thing, sighed and began to pull himself into the wagon. The former princess, meanwhile, looked at her hands…brown and gray with some sort of filth, and furiously rubbed them on some of the hay. "This is the most disgusting thing I have ever seen in my life!"

"If you would have grabbed the side and stepped up slowly, it wouldn't have happened." The man answered as he moved over to the edge and sat down. The farmer soon sighed, cracked the whip, and got them in motion. "You'll need to learn fast not to be afraid of a bit of dirt. Those clothes I bought you are new and you've already gotten them stained."

"Then just buy another pair!" The young woman retorted as she kept cleaning her palms.

"I don't have any money to waste on that." The fiddler answered. "You'll have to make do with stained clothing until washing day."

"What are you talking about?" Amelia answered. "My dress and accessories were easily worth forty of these garments, not to mention a new carriage!"

"I have little need for a carriage." The fiddler responded, still calm. "That money needs to be put into things such as food and shelter. Frivolities like that can wait until our bellies are full."

Amelia only looked more shocked. "'Frivolities'?! What kind of man are you that lets a woman like me wallow in the dust?"

"One who is concerned with staying fed." He answered, his voice growing slightly irritated. "And in case you haven't fully realized yet, 'princess'…you aren't a princess anymore. You're married to me, living where I live, and going where I go. That makes you a peasant."

This last phrase was enough to fill Amelia with shock. Yet before it could turn too far into anger…she slowly realized that the fiddler was right. That was the worst insult yet. Without her father's support, without her lands, status, money, or anything else to her name…she was simply whatever her husband was. And, to her shock…she realized that meant she _was_ a peasant now. Worse than that…she was married to a man who had been begging for food. And that made her the same as all of the filthy urchins that constantly came to the castle ruining the garden, displeasing her view, and making themselves a nuisance. She was now on the same level as them.

Realizing that filled her with such horror that she went into shock again, and nearly swooned for the next several hours.

* * *

When Amelia came around, she was only more sickened to realize she was still on the filthy cart and still trapped in her miserable existence. Even now, she kept hoping she'd wake up from a nightmare. That her father would realize how foolish and inhuman this was and would send for her. Yet none of that happened. Instead, the wagon only took them farther and farther away from anything she had even known and all of the luxury of her palace. Each moment that took her farther away ran home the horrible thought that she was indeed just a peasant now, not the noble lady who deserved to be treated as a goddess among men. And the thought only made her feel angrier and angrier…

However, further complaints were kept quiet at least a little longer. She had walked far on inappropriate shoes just to get to town…farther and harder than she had ever gone in her life. While a real commoner would have thought nothing of it, she was exhausted and her feet were sore and tender in spots from where her old footwear had dug into her feet in spots. Furthermore, as the day gave way to night, she realized they weren't stopping. The farmer merely lit a lantern at the front of his wagon and kept going. She grumbled to herself at that. The wagon was better than walking, but the road was bumpy and uneven and jostled her about. What more, all of the biting insects and flies came around her and flew about, and she constantly tried to smack them away with little success.

Yet eventually, a new concern began to trouble her.

"Are we going to eat at all today?" She asked. "I was content to miss dinner, but it's past time for supper."

The fiddler looked up a bit at this, and exhaled. "Very well." He stated. "I suppose it's time to have a bit of the food I bought." He began to reach into the small pack he carried with him and had set down with his violin on the straw.

Amelia didn't notice, looking around in confusion. "There is no town in any direction for miles… Where are we going to get a meal?"

"I bought a bit before we left." The fiddler answered.

She only looked to him in confusion. "What? Aren't we going to stop to have a meal cooked for us?"

"We don't have the money for that." He answered, soon coming out with a small, half-stale loaf of bread and a bit of dried-out cheese. Even from a distance, Amelia could tell they were no good. But he broke them in half, one after another, and passed them along to her. When she wouldn't take them, almost recoiling from them, he set them on her lap. "There you go. Eat up."

She blinked in astonishment. "This little bit of food?"

"Of course." He answered as he raised his own bread to his mouth and began to bite into it. "We didn't want to spend too much on what we took with us. We'll buy more when we arrive in my country."

She still hesitated. "What about cooking?"

"That will take too long. I'd like to be back in my kingdom before too long."

She looked down to the food for a moment. She raised the bread. Cold, hard, and made from coarse-grained flour. Absolutely nothing like the soft, fluffy rolls she was used to. She felt a touch of something inside her she hadn't felt in some time…a bit of hunger. Therefore, even if it was unappetizing, she raised it to her mouth and opened it. She set her teeth on it…but they merely set there. She tried to bite into it…and met great resistance. It was like trying to bite into a piece of overcooked meat, and she would have thrown it in the face of the cook if this was back in her father's castle.

Grimacing, she lowered it and picked up the cheese, thinking it would be better. Yet it was solid as a rock. Biting into it, it wasn't soft or flavorful at least. It flaked off in her teeth. Some of it landed on her tongue, and she made a bitter face at the awful taste.

Fully disgusted, she removed the cheese, slapped it against the bread, and then brought her hand up and down to merely throw it into the rest of the filth of the hay cart.

However, the fiddler had been watching her. And the food had scarcely left her hand than he suddenly leaned over, shot out, seized it, and then snapped back up to her. His eyes were suddenly filled with such passion and violence that the former princess' dark look vanished, and she leaned back in shock. She thought he would genuinely strike her…but he merely thrust the food back into her hand.

"I consider myself a God-fearing man who is gentle with women," The fiddler stated in a cold voice. "But if you _ever_ do something foolish like that again, I will slap you across the face. You aren't a princess anymore and you don't get your fill of what you like. You take what you can get and you are thankful for it. There may be a time when we find ourselves forced to pick the mold off of whatever food we have on hand for want of something to eat, or that you find sucking on a rock to be desirable. Until then you will eat what I give you or you can go hungry for the next three days."

Amelia was stunned at how sharp his voice had been…how roughly he spoke to her. For a moment, she thought of retorting indignantly. Even if she wasn't a princess anymore, she was still far superior to this country bumpkin. Yet she seemed to at least have some wisdom to her…enough to realize that from the start this man had been dissatisfied with her and not impressed with her beauty or status. Arguing wasn't going to change his mind…and might drive him to violence.

Frowning and snorting, she finally looked away, taking the food again, and began to quietly attempt eating it again. At this, the fiddler finally returned to his own food.

He took his time, but he was still done by the time Amelia was working on her fifth bite, finding it almost impossible to chew. It was tasteless and horrid. The sole benefit she received was that her stomach eased. Still, the fiddler watched her until she ate every last bite of both the bread and cheese, and in the end she looked quite unhappy with the whole thing.

"Now get some rest." He stated afterward, leaning back as best as he could and crossing his arms. "We have much to do tomorrow."

Amelia didn't argue, although she had no idea how she was supposed to sleep on a filthy pile of rotten hay. She couldn't see how the fiddler was doing it…how he could bear to just be still in such wretched garbage. Yet in spite of that, she realized she wanted to get some sleep too. Perhaps if she did, when she woke up, she'd find this was all a bad dream…

Unfortunately for Amelia, her problems had only begun.

* * *

When she woke up to the sun glaring in her eyes and the early morning bugs having started to buzz around her, to say nothing of the bites she had from the night before, she found she was still in the filthy cart on the moldy hay. She was quite stiff and miserable at this point from having slept in such an uncomfortable position, especially since it had been the first time in her life she had been forced to lean against something hard and rigid as she rested. She never wanted to see another piece of hay for the rest of her life.

At any rate, she was growing quite tired of the hay ride…and found herself rather hungry that morning. After all, last night's food had hardly been sufficient. She looked to the fiddler.

"What are we going to eat for breakfast?"

"I only had the food from last night." He answered. "We'll eat when we reach my acquaintance's property later today."

"Later today?" The former princess echoed. "It will be time for supper by then! We're skipping meals again? We did that yesterday!"

"We won't skip any meals if we can avoid it." The fiddler answered. "The fact of the matter is we don't have much in the way of means at the moment and we'll have to make what food and money we have last until we start bringing some in. When that happens, we'll eat as many times a day as we can afford, but you'll have to get used to being lean at some points."

"What do you mean by that?" Amelia answered indignantly.

"I mean that you may get by with one meal a day or less for several weeks at a time." He responded.

The woman gaped in surprise. "You mean to say you'll let me _starve_?"

"Not if we can afford it, but it's an unfortunate fact of life." The man simply answered. "Only the rich can depend on getting three meals a day."

Amelia couldn't believe what she was hearing. This just kept getting worse. Did her father know the man that he gave her to would be letting her go hungry? It infuriated her. Why didn't the king give her away to a robber or murderer if he was going to give her to someone who neglected her so?

She continued to fume over this for a while, until, abruptly, the cart game to a stop at a crossroads.

"This is where I turn off." The driver announced. "I must say, your wife is the most cantankerous and malcontented wench I've ever had to listen to, but so long as your money is good I suppose I can't complain too badly."

Amelia's irritation at how her new husband had talked of not feeding her was forgotten on hearing that insult. The woman glared at the farmer in rage. He had shown his insolence time and again this entire ride. If she but had a single guard under her command, she would order him dead on the spot. But as it was, she was sore and miserable from the night before, not to mention feeling her stomach grumbling from getting far less food than it was used to. So she merely frowned as she began to follow the fiddler out of the wagon. After all…as much as the dirty beggar offended her, she would take him over the farmer. Soon, they were out, and without another word the farmer cracked the reins and sent the wagon on its way.

She snorted at him as he left. "We're fortunate to be rid of that man and his filth."

"That man was good enough to take us through a dangerous part of country, saving us the need to find shelter and food for days, and for a modest price." The fiddler responded. "You should learn to recognize a kindness when you see it."

"Kindness?! Sitting in that filthy pile of rot… Sleeping on that disgusting hay…"

"And if it hadn't been for him, it would have been walking the entire distance and sleeping on a rock." He retorted a bit sharply.

Amelia frowned yet again in response to this, and looked around herself. It seemed to be nothing more than a meadow and trees, however, and as far as she could see it was that way both up and down the road. She finally looked to him. "…Where is that property you were going to buy?"

"That's far on the other side of the village, and the village is still easily ten miles from here." The fiddler answered as he began to stiffly walk down the road, the other way than the farmer in the wagon took.

"Ten miles?!" Amelia nearly shrieked, echoing up and down the road. "You said you rented his services to take us to your property!"

"I 'rented his services', as you so put it," The fiddler answered. "To take us back to my home country and nothing more. Now come. We need to be in town as soon as possible if I'm going to make the sale. He always heads out to his own fields shortly after noon."

"We can't walk that far!" The young woman continued to complain. "Do you have any idea how long that will take us? How exhausting it will be?"

The fiddler let out a sigh, rolling his eyes. "If I can make it that far with this bad back of mine, I'm sure you can make it. Especially since your shoes are practical now. Look…complaining isn't going to do either of us any good. We're lucky the farmer took us that far. Now let's go."

The former princess continued to hold a bit longer. "But…we walked so far yesterday already!"

At this, the man turned away and let out a chuckle. "We may find ourselves walking a lot farther than that in the future, depending on how we end up making a livelihood. You might as well get used to it now, especially since yesterday was only a stroll more than anything." He walked on from there and said no more.

Amelia couldn't believe it. Her feet still weren't fully recovered from yesterday, and now even more walking… She felt both insulted as well as tortured by now. A part of her wanted to just stay there and refuse to take this abuse. However…her new "husband" seemed to have little care for any of her needs or concerns and was fine with letting her suffer both disgrace and torment. And she already felt the bugs buzzing around her again, the growing heat of the day, her stomach churning, and the fact that there wasn't another human soul for quite some distance and, even if there was, they might be more than a little hostile to a lone woman.

Fuming under her breath, she reluctantly began to follow, this time making sure to keep her head high and walk as a proper lady. She at least still had her pride.

* * *

The shoes were more comfortable than her heels, and the clothing, crude as it was, was easier to move around in without sweating. Nevertheless, for a person who had never been out on a serious walk in her entire life…the journey was still miserable for Amelia. It might have taken longer than yesterday, but her feet were soon killing her again, and her muscles were burning. She panted often, not used to having to exert so much stamina, but although the fiddler slowed down to allow her to catch up, he wouldn't stop after the first two times. He told her if they kept pausing to rest they'd have to spend all night outside, and though his kingdom was safer than most it was a risk he wasn't willing to take. To further spur her on, he reminded her that the flies and gnats buzzing around her would only be worse at night, so they should try to keep going.

As she walked along, Amelia only continued to brood more about her ill change of fortune. She was already miserable, sore, and still wet from where her clothes hadn't dried out from the rot. The foreign feeling of hunger was progressively getting worse, and she was growing more and more tired as she had to walk. It made her even more miserable to realize that this was only the first day of what might be the rest of her life… She almost wished she was dead. Not only was she dishonored, but in this wretched state…

There was a touch of relief, however. They hadn't gone but about a mile down the road before they entered a wood. It was very old and cool, and aromatic and fragrant…far more than any of the woods that Amelia had ever passed through. It was enough to actual distract her from her misery and to look up and around. She was pleasantly surprised to see that the forest was quite old and majestic…even older and lovelier than those of her own kingdom. She expected to clear it readily, but as an hour went by and they continued to walk, she saw they were still in the thick of it. She practically forgot all of her misery for a short while as she looked about it.

Over time, the fiddler seemed to realize she was slowing. When that happened, he turned and looked back to her. "Don't tell me you're exhausted again already. The canopy is so thick you can't even feel the sun's heat."

Amelia didn't answer him, but he soon saw what she was doing. At that, he turned forward again, but called back further. "You seem to enjoy this forest."

"It's beautiful…" She remarked. "I've never seen such a lovely wood…or even knew one existed. I've been to the woods in my father's kingdom and looked at them in books with pictures, but…this place is beyond any of it. Who owns this forest?"

"The property is held by the lord of this kingdom." The fiddler went on.

"And who is that?"

"King Grizzlebeard."

Amelia nearly stumbled. Her eyes went open wide as she stared at the fiddler. "Ex…excuse me?"

"Well, his name used to be 'King Grimes'…" The fiddler responded without turning or stopping. "But he was called off to meet with a gathering of kings one day, as I understand it. When he returned, he started spreading out that he preferred the name: 'King Grizzlebeard'. Some lady, as I understand, said it to his face to mock him, but the rumor goes since he found it so much better than his own name he retained it. At first when word hit the country it was thought to be a jest…but, in time, it's become something of a 'term of endearment'."

"King…King Grizzlebeard…owns all of this?" Amelia echoed in response. She was still a bit aghast. She had thought he, just like everyone else who her father had summoned, was so far beneath her both in terms of wealth and property as well as refinement and nobility that she had actually subconsciously held the idea that even the richest of them were nothing compared to her. And she had thought any man who had such an odd and ugly beard, no matter how he dressed, didn't ultimately amount to anything. She looked about again…marveling at how rustic and charming the forest was…thinking of how nice it would be to walk through a path on a hot day, or see it fill with snow in winter, or how good its hunting was…even how she used to gather wildflowers as a child.

"Did you know him?" The fiddler asked after a moment longer, snapping Amelia out of his thoughts. "It just occurred to me you were once a princess. Perhaps you met."

Amelia stiffened at the "once a princess" comment, but she swallowed and continued. "…I did meet him once, but…I assumed with that ridiculous tuft of hair on his chin that he couldn't have been anyone of note or had such an estate…"

The fiddler snorted, seeming to put two and two together. "Perhaps you should learn not to judge by appearances so quickly." He answered. "After all, one would think a princess might make a better wife…"

The former princess immediately flustered at that comment, but the fiddler didn't linger for an insult. "At any rate…don't dawdle. If you loved this forest so much, it could have been yours if you had sought King Grizzlebeard for a husband. Now he's courting another noblewoman, as I understand it, and you're married to me, so there's no sense in longing after it."

This latest bit made Amelia nearly stop again. For the first time since she had left the castle, she showed neither anger nor disgust nor pain nor depression…but regret. As she looked about the lovely forest and saw how deep and vast it was, how she would have easily preferred it to her own garden at home or even her own chambers, how she could literally smell how rich and fragrant it was with each breath…she began to think a bit sensibly and had a realization.

_Even if he was ugly and not worthy of me…marrying King Grizzlebeard would have been far better than what happened to me. I'd have still had my father's favor, a lovely wedding with music and decorations, and I would have had this beautiful piece of land. Besides…I suppose, in time, I could have learned to live with him… He seemed to be better than most of those ridiculous men…and even if he wasn't I could have been far more content with him than this wretched pauper and this demeaning life…_

As they walked on, Amelia folded her hands in front of her and began to wring them a bit, holding her head down a little and continuing to brood.

* * *

The sensation of regret may have been a foreign one to Amelia, but she soon grew far more acquainted with it. It progressively grew worse the longer and longer she spent going through the sylvan wood, admiring more and more about it, and wishing that she hadn't taken up staying in the palace so much in her later years. She would have loved to just roam through it for a while… She thought that when they finally emerged, she could at least stop dwelling on what "could have been" at least.

Yet she soon saw something that she found just as lovely. Stretching beyond the forest was a beautiful meadow. It was filled with wildflowers, but they were just enough to give it a lovely look rather than to appear "weedy". It stretched far and wide over hills and vales, and was accented with a beautiful, blue, clear stream weaving through it with little wooden footbridges crossing over. Part of the meadow was devoted to growing crops and fields, and even they were quite long and extensive…far more than in her father's kingdom. Other areas were devoted to grazing, although it seemed there was more than enough for twice the herds that she had seen in her homeland. Yet there was still a great expanse of meadow beyond that, where she could see venison grazing, geese flocking, and even a fox or two that had gleaming red coats like brass.

At one point, she noticed a group of riders going through the meadow, mounted on splendid horses and dressed extravagantly. And on seeing them…she remembered how, years ago, before she had focused so much on staying in the palace and worrying about maintaining her flawless appearance and "distancing herself from the commoners", she had quite enjoyed riding. She remembered how her mother used to do it…and why she took it up in the first place. She felt she was with her when she was riding along in the meadow, in a sense. That at least she could still share in something with her…

A place this beautiful…with horses like that…it stirred her long-forgotten longing within her. She suddenly found the desire to go riding once again…enough to where she nearly walked off the path to the ditch, toward the horses as they ran far in the distance.

"Watch yourself." The fiddler called when she did, snapping her out of it. "If you fall in the water, you'll only be more miserable."

Frowning, irritated that her momentary fantasy was ruined, the former princess scowled and began to walk on…trying not to look at the meadow again. Naturally…this was owned by King Grizzlebeard as well. By now…she seriously began to think any disgrace she would have received from marrying that man was indeed worth it.

Things only grew worse. After walking past noon and with her hunger now starting to make her feel very uncomfortable…even unsettling as she heard her own belly grumble…she saw something spread out and white in the distance, rising up from the meadow along with a few stands of trees beginning to fill the landscape. As she got a bit closer, however, she recognized that it was a high wall, spreading far and wide, towering and white and beautiful. Beyond it, she saw big flaming braziers in beautiful stonework, and the tops of one building after another rising on the other side, spreading as far as she could see. She was overwhelmed as she neared, seeing how far and wide it was.

"Is that…the palace of King Grizzlebeard?" She asked after a time.

The fiddler looked up a bit. "What…that? Of course not. That's only the city tied to the castle."

Amelia's jaw loosened again. "The…the city?! It looks more majestic than my…I…I mean, my father's courtyard!"

"That it is." The fiddler answered. "A great deal of public works were put up by the Grimes family. As much surplus wealth as they had, it was a small matter. After all, what good is protecting the castle if he can't protect the city that supplies it and the people that live within it?"

"But…it's…it's so beautiful… So splendid…"

"Since the king benefits from the work of his citizens, he has a policy where it is only best if he work to their benefit as far as he is able. Giving them public works to lift their spirits and encourage them…fitting them with a sense of safety and security. Granted, not everyone can live there, but just seeing that town enlivens most of the people as they feel protected and free to entrust the safety of their families while they are out and about."

"It had to have cost a fortune…"

"I'm sure it did, but the Grimes nobles have always been quite wealthy." The man shrugged. "I'm sure it was nothing difficult for them, and that they have far more besides."

Amelia continued to walk…but only once again in a catatonic state. Even that city looked beautiful… The closer she got, the more she saw gardens planted and beautiful torch sconces and splendid art and architecture. And it had been made by a person who controlled more wealth than she could ever have dreamed, quite honestly. She never really cared much for wealth or power…having felt she had enough…but now she saw why her father had been so enraged. With this must prestige, property, and dominion…her father would have definitely become far greater if he had only received a small part of it as a result of her marriage. As she looked on, however…she realized worse than that. A number of those kings in that hall might have commanded just as much property and power…perhaps even _more_. And she had rejected every last one…

"I don't believe this…" She finally stated aloud.

The fiddler slowed a bit and looked behind her. "Hmm?"

She twisted her face and tightened her fists in frustration. "I must be the most unfortunate woman to ever have walked this Earth!" She finally outburst. "The most poor, wretched creature that ever lived! Look at all of that!" She looked up angrily to the fiddler. "Did you walk me by this to simply add insult to injury? All of this could have been mine if I had picked that man with that gristle for a beard… And now look at me! No dignity! No honor! No wealth! No lands! No title! Just wearing these clothes that are practically cloth and married to some penniless cripple!"

The poor man merely frowned in response. "…Flattery will get you nowhere." He simply stated. "And if you're quite finished with your little tantrum, pick up the pace. We've already had to go too slow on your account and it might yet be dark before we get there."

"I'm hungry!" She complained in response. "We haven't eaten since last night!"

"If you want food, then cease complaining and daydreaming and walk faster. The sooner we get to our new home, the sooner we can eat." He answered as he kept walking.

She scowled as she continued to walk. "You have no concern for your own wife, do you? You don't care one bit for my well-being or peace of mind, do you?"

"I'm not sure how it works in nobility, but among the 'common folk' we have a saying called 'share and share alike'." The fiddler answered without turning, yet a bit more sharply. "You honestly wouldn't care if I fell down dead in this road right now. Why should I be too terribly concerned with burdening myself to make you comforable?"

"Perhaps because I'm a proper lady instead of a filthy beggar!"

"You _were_ a proper lady." The man answered. "Now, you're only one step removed from being a beggar yourself. And give it one more day or so and you'll have the 'filthy' part down as well."

"UGH!" The former princess groaned as she fumed and continued to follow.

* * *

In less than an hour, the two finally made it to outside of the city. From that point, Amelia received one last taste of regret as, far on the other side of the beautiful walled city she saw an equally beautiful and majestic castle rising up in the distance. Even for a member of the nobility, the former princess was in awe of it. She had only heard of castles like that in fairy tales and picture books. It was so large and majestic… It made her own home's castle look like a simple summer home by comparison. The thought that she could have been living there right at this moment…it nearly brought her to tears.

It didn't help that she was left to stand outside the walls of the city and stare at it as the poor man left her under the eye of the gatekeeper and then went inside momentarily, saying that his friend was just a bit within, and would be selling the last of the previous season's growth at this time of day, and this would be the best time to catch him and make the deal. Amelia, at length, sat down and tried her best to not face either the city or the glorious castle. Even so…her anger and anguish only continued to grow as she heard the sounds of commerce behind her. Even the people here seemed to be happier and more upbeat than anyone from her own kingdom…and the fact that all of these paupers and commoners were laughing and smiling and talking so pleasantly only made her angrier… How could they be so happy when they had such pathetic lives riddled with poverty? How could _anyone_ be happy like this?

She wasn't sure how long she waited. Long enough to where she entertained the hope that her new husband wouldn't come back at all…but not quite long enough to think sensibly about what that would mean to her if he didn't. All in all, somewhere between one to two hours. She noticed the sun lowering, but it was still fairly high in the sky when he finally neared her again. She was brooding so much that she nearly leapt when he touched her.

He didn't apologize, but he had a sack he was nearly dragging. It had been tied at his waist since he couldn't carry it on his back, but wasn't too full.

"We were in luck. He hadn't sold the property yet, and he offered me a very good deal to pay over time if I put down some money now." The fiddler stated. "We even have a bit left over, which is good because we're going to need to find another source of money before long and hopefully this will help us obtain some. Let's go."

With a sigh, Amelia began to rise again. She told herself to not focus on the situation at hand. Soon she'd be in a home at least and be able to rest at last. Maybe if she slept in a real bed, she'd actually be able to forget this miserable life for at least a third of her remaining years… And she could at least get some food. Sitting around waiting for the fiddler had done little to assuage her hunger, after all. It had been unpleasant enough as a foreign sensation, but now it was reaching the point where even one used to it would find it unpleasant. She was eager to have some food and rest now…perhaps even a bath to get rid of this filth she still had clinging to her from her clothes, although they had long since dried.

The two soon took off down the road again. Amelia was more than a bit sore at the thought of having to walk another few hours, especially since the sun was now definitely making its descent. The fiddler reassured her, however, that the property wasn't far from the city. Although she would have much rather preferred to actually live in the city itself…she reasoned that, at minimum, staying in this beautiful country wouldn't be so bad. She even allowed herself to look forward a bit to whatever property they had just acquired. It had to be nicer than she thought her effects could afford if they weren't paying for it all at once, after all.

They soon passed through the woods and toward the stands of trees. As they went along, they moved interspersed between sections of forest and meadow that progressively got bigger and wilder. To her displeasure, it wasn't quite as lovely as the woods she has passed through before that, and the meadow wasn't quite as lovely as the previous one she had seen. It was more rough, overgrown, and dry…to say nothing of filled with bugs. They passed over one of those bridges and, although the water was clear and beautiful…the mosquito clouds were so bad she had to slap at them multiple times yet still got bites.

As they crossed into one of the messier stands, definitely younger with lots of overgrowth, and as she was eager to get out and go into one of the better sections of forest, she noticed something. There was, nestled away on an overgrown, dirty path, a filthy, partially-rotted shack with a roof that was partially warped in. It was hardly larger than the storage shed that the gardener used back at her own kingdom, yet she saw this actually had a small column of stone that indicated a chimney in the back. It was nothing like any she had ever encountered, but even she wasn't so out of touch as to not recognize one. There were no windows and the door was crooked and askew as well, giving all the more look of some place simply designed to hold materials…although, considering where it was, there was no telling how much vermin was inside…

She was getting ready to move on, looking away from it, when the fiddler stopped. He too was looking in the direction of the shack, and suddenly raised his head.

"Ah…here we are."

Amelia froze and blinked, looking to him. "…Here we are what?"

"The property I purchased." The man responded. "This is it." He changed his path and began to walk toward the shack.

The former princess stood and stared, and finally frowned and snorted.

"…You may not respect me, but you don't have to mock me." She stated, and then turned. "Let us go and find your new property. I'm tired of walking and I'm eager to eat."

"Then come this way." The fiddler answered. "This is where we're living."

"Do not take me for a fool!" Amelia shot back. "That's not a house! That's a shack! A warming hut at the most! Where's your manor?"

The fiddler turned fully to her and quirked an eyebrow. "…Manor?"

She groaned. "I understand that you may not have a carriage or servants…but do not take me for such a fool as to think that you could not get an excellent piece of property for the price that my jewels and dress was worth!"

The poor man scoffed. "And don't inflate your worth so highly, 'madam'." He retorted. "You obviously have little concept of money, but the finest dress in the world couldn't be sold to purchase much in the way of property. Even if it could, you didn't really think anyone in that township had enough money on them to pay for what the dress was fully worth, did you? I was lucky to get near half price for it and a third for the jewelry."

Amelia's anger turned to surprise. "What?!" Her face flushed in anger. "Do you have any idea how much those things were worth?!"

"It doesn't matter if you can't get to one who is willing to pay that." The fiddler responded. "As always in this lifestyle, you take what you can get. Now are you coming in or would you prefer to stand outside and sulk?"

The young woman was practically overwhelmed. She just kept getting one shock after another.

"This isn't a home! It's…it's…" She fumed as she tried to think of the right word. "It's a hut! A hovel! A glorified doghouse! Do you really think I can live in there? I can barely stretch out on one side!"

"Well, you had better do that and more because _we_ are going to be living there." The fiddler answered. "Unless you've already forgotten that we're married now."

She hissed. "Don't remind me…I almost think the stocks would have been better than this…"

"You should be grateful you have a roof over your head in the first place." The poor man spoke with sudden force. "There's many people, even in that great city, who don't. Now come along." He began to turn to go inside.

"But…look at it!" Amelia protested. "Look how wretched it is! It's practically falling apart! It must be infested with termites! It can hardly keep anyone warm or dry! It's even filthier than that disgusting cart that we rode on last night! Far filthier! There isn't a nail or bolt I can see from here that isn't caked with rust! I could put my foot through the wall with one good kick! Your friend cheated you! You need to go back and get your money restored to you and find a better place!"

"There _is_ no better place!" The poor man suddenly shouted…enough to actually make Amelia recoil in surprise at the force and violence within his tone. She went silent, and remained that way as he looked back to her. "If it wasn't for the kindness of my friend, we wouldn't even have this! It's not just the home I bought but what's inside! Things that we need to cook for ourselves and make a living! Not to mention the food in this sack! The money I have on me needs to go to more things than petty comforts for _you_! It's got to keep us alive! _Both _of us! Now, for the last time, come on or you can sleep outside!"

Amelia was silent at that. She continued to fume and hate this setup…especially now that she had just been reprimanded by this beggar that she found herself married to. Yet she showed none of her rage. She didn't want any more of his ire. She was spoiled…but she was also not used to being yelled at and didn't enjoy the sensation. Furthermore…it was getting darker. The shadows were getting long in the forest…and even if this had been the lovelier wood she wouldn't have wanted to stay in it. At first, she thought she didn't need to fear. He wouldn't actually leave her outside… Yet then…she remembered her father…

Grudgingly, she began to follow him again. He soon reached the front door. There was, at minimum, a lock on the door, and he reached into his pocket for a key. Still, that hardly mattered when any strong man could kick it open… At any rate, he unlocked the door and opened it up, then stood to one side. At least he had enough manners to let her go in first, she figured. However, that soon didn't end up being the case either.

"Go on inside. I need to check the back to see if that wheelbarrow he mentioned is there."

He turned away and began to walk around the back, leaving the shack open. As there were no windows, aside from some cracks in the wood letting in sunlight there wasn't the slightest bit of illumination. Most of it came from the doorway. Hence, she had to advance a few steps and look inside.

She turned white as a sheet.

She was just in time to see a trio of mice scurry away from the rotten remains of a bird that had fallen inside the house at some point and died, leaving nothing but bones and feathers at this point. There was a floor, but it was dirty and filthy, stained with all manner of disgusting refuse from over the years of being a general purpose room. The corners were all filled with dusty cobwebs…but she still saw old, fat spiders scurrying about in them. There were rodent feces in one corner as well as bits of old, rotted straw lying about. There were a few tools for cooking…but all of them were old and hadn't been used in some time. No doubt, in the kettle alone there was something living… Finally, to cement everything, a bat flew out and by her, upsetting her covered hair as it tagged her with its wings.

That was too much. The young woman fell back on her rear end in fright and screamed.

She was still crying out when the fiddler came back around the side of the house, hobbling as fast as he could, and looking alarmed. "What is it? What happened?"

She pointed a finger inside the house. "We…are…_not_…living in that rat nest!" She shrieked. "That isn't fit for anything to live inside of it! It's…it's…it's _inhuman!_"

The poor man blinked, and then looked to the opening. He ventured forward a bit and ducked his head inside, looking about. Amelia, meanwhile, was trying to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding so fast she thought it would burst from her chest. After a moment, however, he leaned back out a bit.

"Well, he said this place hadn't been used in a while. I'd say it needs a bit of a cleaning…" He leaned back out and began to head around to the back again, not giving so much as a second look at the former princess. Soon he vanished around the side.

The young woman, in response, nearly gasped. "'Bit of cleaning'?! It needs to have someone take a torch to it! A pauper's grave is more inviting! A _hole in the ground_ is preferable to this!"

The fiddler came back a moment later. In one hand, he held an old wooden bucket, though newer than most of the rest of the house. He also held an old, splintered broom with the bristles frayed and falling out in his other hand.

"Don't be silly." He stated, and then threw the broom right at her.

Amelia actually shrieked and shielded herself in response, letting the broom smack against her body and fall to the ground. She soon uncovered her body again and shot a glare at the man. "What is the meaning of attacking me like that?!"

The poor man stared back, and then sighed, nearly rolling his eyes. "…I wasn't attacking you. I was tossing you the broom and I expected you to catch it." He gestured to the house. "Get to work sweeping. I'll get us some water to clean the cookware and then start making dinner."

Amelia blinked. "What…what did you just say?"

The fiddler looked like he had to swallow back an amount of frustration. "I said 'get to work sweeping'."

The former princess was aghast. "You can't be serious! I may be your wife, but I am _not_ your maid! Do it yourself!"

"You live here too now," The fiddler shot back. "And so long as you live here, you help with the chores."

"Absolutely not!" Amelia nearly shouted. "I'm a fine lady! I will not, not now or ever, demean myself with such dirty labor!"

Again, the fiddler's eyes narrowed. "…Fine." He held up the bucket. "Then you can go fetch the water while I sweep. And if you find _that_ too demeaning, then you can go into these woods and find a hole in the ground, just as you said, and sleep in _that_. You'll be hard pressed to find one cleaner than this house. I'll have you know, 'your highness', that you have been very fortunate until now. Back in your father's castle you may have been someone of importance…but right now you're just a peasant like me. Much as you hate it, that's the way the world goes. That's your new lot in life. So you better get used to it because it only gets worse from here. And since you're just a peasant…I would be well within my rights to give you some 'discipline' for being such a cantankerous and malcontented woman."

The former princess' eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare! I'm a-"

_"Wouldn't I?"_

The sudden sharpness of the voice was enough to silence Amelia again…but, more than that…it made her recoil again…and actually show a bit of fear as the fiddler glared down at her. He actually took a step closer…and Amelia, in spite of her pride, found herself recoiling.

"You're a peasant now. Do you think anyone will care? Do you even know how to get to anyone who might? Do you have anyone out here to call for help?"

The young woman actually quivered a bit on hearing this…and seeing the fiddler glare down at her. For once…she was completely tongue-tied. And for a moment…she was honestly, truly afraid…for she realized he was right. Even if she screamed…could anyone hear her? And if they did, would they come running?

However, the fiddler exhaled and calmed a moment later. "…As I said before, I am a God-fearing man, and I wouldn't strike someone _twice_ as quarrelsome as you…" He frowned. "Although, at the moment, I have no idea where I would find such a woman… But I _will _grant you exactly what you want if you continue to act this way. From now on, no one is going to just 'give' you anything. You'll have to work for it. The faster you adjust to that…the faster you start learning to do it…the easier this will be for both of us."

He sighed and began to turn. "…I'm going to go get the water now. I'll show you how to later. For now…sweep out the house." With that, he turned fully away and began to walk off.

Amelia was left on the ground for a bit, sitting in stunned silence. For a moment, she honestly feared she would be struck…and yet, what was even more surprising to her was that when the fiddler said he was "a God-fearing man"…she actually believed him. Much as she hated him and how he had brought her to this state, she felt he wouldn't honestly hit her. However…she also knew he was telling the truth. And frankly…much as she hated to even think such a notion…a rotten, slumped roof was better than none at all.

Frowning and groaning a bit, she got her legs underneath her. As her husband vanished from view, she slowly got to her feet, and then reached down for the broom. She actually grimaced at it, glaring at the tool with disgust. To actually have to handle such a crude thing…like a common servant… She grimaced a bit more, but finally, biting down and forcing herself to move, she reached down and grabbed it.

She soon let out a yelp and dropped it. Something pricked her. She held back her hand to herself, which was still quite fair and delicate from lack of use, but saw nothing immediately. She looked back to the broom, and grimaced to see that the shaft was so old that it was dry and splintered in many places. Grimacing again, she more tentatively and carefully reached down. This time, she looked all along it for a moment to find a place that was "splinter-free". It took some time, but eventually she found a place and very lightly grabbed it so as to not get any more pricks. Very tentatively, she picked it up, and held it before her with one hand.

_…Now what?_ She thought.

She turned to the doorway and looked inside. The filth and grime was still there, making her wince just to think she would be in contact with it. What more…she had no idea what to do. Years earlier she had watched the maids when they swept, but she hadn't paid any attention to them in ten years. And while any common folk would think she was ridiculous for being so out of touch as to not know what to do, one had to recall even a child followed their parent around imitating sweeping motions and gradually learning from that. She had never even had that experience.

Tentatively, she inched up to the doorway. She held her hands and legs away from it as much as possible. She grimaced the whole way, looking uncertain and even afraid. She stared for a long while, not really wanting to get any closer. Finally, however, she extended the end of the broom, and lightly rested it just a foot inside the door. Moistening her lips a bit…she only slowly drew it back…very slowly leaving streaks on the ground. Not only that, but when she pulled the grime and mouse droppings closer to her, she shrieked lightly and pulled back. She held for a moment, just standing there, looking at it.

After a moment, she ventured forward and, with slightly more purpose, set her broom down and pulled back again. A few more streaks were traced. Relaxing slightly, she did the motion again with slightly more force, leaving even more taken up. She tried pulling one more time, with more force yet…and soon cried out again when the droppings were flung back through the air and tagged her dress. She immediately scrambled back as she cried out.

She froze again once there, calming down a bit. She seemed to be getting better at this, at least. Much as she disliked it and how demeaning it was, she was getting some of the floor clean. And if she watched herself, she could avoid getting tagged by the dirt again. She nearly almost gathered her wits to continue…when she noticed something. There was something prickly seeming to brush along her hand. She looked down to see what it was.

Soon the woman let out another scream…as she saw a spider that had been hiding in the bristles finally finish working its way up the shaft to her hand and casually crawl on top of it.

The broom went down and Amelia shook her hand furiously to fling the arachnid into the air, and then turned and actually ran off in a panic. Had the way in front of the shack not been clear, the woman would have easily run straight into a tree and not cared. She ran away from the site for a few seconds before throwing herself on the ground and actually heaving and gasping, screaming a few additional times just trying to get her composure back. Her heart felt like it would burst from her chest. Never before had she been so frightened. She couldn't compose herself. She just continued to lie there, trying to forget that the horrid little thing had actually been on her…actually crawling on its tiny little legs…looking at her with its little beady eyes…

She wasn't sure how long she lay there. It had to be a few minutes at least, easily. Yet eventually, the sounds of rushing through the grass and tree branches became audible. Soon after that, she heard the fiddler's voice…after a sigh.

"…What's wrong now?"

She continued to stare for a moment, and then snapped to the fiddler. She was too stunned to look angry this time, but her face was still livid.

"There was a _spider_ still on that broom!"

He looked to it, and then back to her, his brow a bit quirked.

"…And?"

"It crawled on me!"

He continued to stare. "…And?"

Her eyes nearly bulged. _"There was a spider on me!"_

The fiddler merely sighed and went over to the house. He looked inside, and immediately frowned. "…Did you even attempt to sweep this floor?" He looked down to the threshold. "For goodness sakes…you barely left a mark on the threshold."

Amelia was aghast. "…Didn't you hear what I said?! I couldn't sweep it after that!"

"It looks like to me you couldn't sweep it before it, either…" The fiddler grumbled as he bent down and picked up the broom. "All you had to do was just brush it off and get back to work. Of course there's going to be spiders and beetles and what have you when this place hasn't been used for a while. Just work with these things for a bit and they'll go away."

He set the bucket down and then turned and looked to Amelia. "Get up and get over here. I need to show you something."

The young princess thought of chastising him for his lack of concern…but realized it would get nowhere. Besides, she was still scared from the shock of before. Slowly, she put her hands out to push up…but then gave a yelp. "Ow!"

The fiddler struggled not to roll his eyes. "What is it now?"

Amelia looked to the palm of her hand, and immediately whined. She reached out to it and felt for a moment, but only winced more. "A piece of wood got stuck in my palm!"

"What…a splinter?" He asked. "Not surprising…this shaft is going to have to be worked for a while before it loses those… Now come on. I'm going to show you how to sweep."

"I can't sweep like this!" She protested as she began to rise, holding her hand carefully in front of her. "I'm injured!"

The poor man's jaw nearly dropped. "…You're joking, right?" Sighing, he lowered the broom to his side and walked up to her. He looked over her outstretched palm even as she cradled it, and finally did sigh. "…It's a tiny splinter. In three days, it will be gone. Until then, just grit your teeth through it. You'll get used to it quickly."

"Used to it?" The woman retorted. "I'll be in pain constantly!"

"For goodness sakes, woman…if you get sore from _that_, you'll not get very far in life." He nearly retorted. "If it bothers you, put some leaves or cloth between you and the shaft, but you'll have to work through it so get used to it. Now get over here."

He turned and moved to the shack. Again, Amelia was shocked at his lack of sympathy. However, she was too miserable and stunned at the moment to debate it and followed. Soon, they were at the front of the shack. Once there, he looked to her a moment.

"Now…grab the broom like this…hard and firm." He moved his hands out and grasped it.

"There are splinters on that portion…I'll only hurt myself again if I do it like that."

"Then, like I said, use cloth or leaves. But try not to. Your hands are too delicate. You need to get some calluses going and then you'll be able to grab anything without damage."

"Calluses?!" She shot back.

The fiddler nearly grit his teeth. "_Don't_ start again. Now watch."

He stepped inside the house and began to sweep. Contrary to Amelia…his sweeping was powerful, hard, rapid, and fast. Whatever wasn't kicked up by the actual brush stroke was flung by the sheer force and power he put into each broom stroke. After sweeping out some, enough to clear a path into the house, he turned to her and held the broom out. "Now you try it."

The young woman hesitated a moment. She wasn't sure she was cut out enough to work so roughly… She had no idea that a simple act of sweeping would require so much force and energy. However…she slowly took the broom from him again, still so much at a loss from the actual sweeping that she didn't bother protecting her hands right away. However, as she pulled out her sleeves slowly to use them, the fiddler turned around and went back outside to get the pail of water. As he did, she exhaled, and then grabbed on and began to strike as hard as she could in the floor, trying her best to imitate what she had just seen, and soon flinging grime and dust up and everywhere about her.

As the fiddler came back, he immediately recoiled away from the billowing clouds. "Stop…stop…stop!" He cried out…causing Amelia to pause and look to him. "What on Earth are you doing?"

She frowned in response. "I'm sweeping!"

"You're throwing the dust everywhere! Are you even trying to make a pile or get it out the door?"

"I'm doing just what you showed me!"

"I brushed it all straight to one side! See!" The fiddler answered as he pointed to the floor. "Do that! Keep it on the ground!"

"But you were throwing dust clouds up!" She protested.

"Just little ones! Look…" He sighed. "Just…just keep working at it a bit longer, until I get the utensils clean…" Muttering, he waited for the dust to settle, and then went into the house. There were a couple of small stools hanging from the walls, so he pulled down one as well as some of the dirty utensils and produced a cloth from his pocket. As he got ready to pour some water out to wash the tools, Amelia grit her teeth, grimaced a bit more, and then looked back to her work. She winced on seeing the dust had settled on her, and again moaned inwardly at how she looked like such a filthy little peasant…again thinking of how much she hated this…and went about her work again.

* * *

It took longer than she wanted. She was corrected four more times before she even began to do a halfway decent job, and even then she was slow. Her hands and wrists hurt from never having a tight grip and doing any sort of chore, and soon even her back was hurting from having to bent over and put some force into the sweeping. She was told to also clear the corners…but she was only brave enough to use the tips of her fingers to reach out and only slowly clear the cobwebs. She was told by the fiddler to smash the spiders…but she was too nervous of them surviving and crawling up the broom again, and she barely gave enough effort to drive them off. By the time the fiddler had finished washing the appurtances, she was still struggling to simply get the floor clean. It wasn't helping that the sun was setting. It was getting darker, and she was still hungry. The work was only making her sweaty and get hungrier yet…

"Alright, that's enough…" The fiddler sighed. "It'll have to do for now or you'll be sweeping all night. You have a lot to learn."

Amelia merely frowned in response as she put the broom against the wall. She soon gasped slightly at what she saw. Her hands were bright red from her grip and the work. She actually looked to them with some hurt. Her hands were normally so fair and delicate…and how they were getting raw from having to do this servant's labor… Yet she didn't dwell on that. By now, she felt a bit weak from having no food and was eager to eat. With that in mind, she exhaled and looked to the fiddler.

"Are we going to eat now? I've been starving for some time."

The fiddler frowned. "Hardly…but yes, we are going to eat now."

"Finally…" Amelia remarked. She began to look around for the other stool. It wasn't the best chair in the world but she had been on her feet for so long she didn't really care… Just to relax, having something to eat, and then try and sleep…

As for the fiddler, he moved over to the fireplace and looked around at it. He ran his hands around the inside and looked at the hearth, seeing some older logs on it already. He gave a nod. "Good…we have some firewood already. One less thing we have to do to get settled in. It looks like the frame will still hold the cookware as well." He rose and looked over to Amelia. "The vegetables and potatoes are in the bag over there. Get to it."

The young woman paused as she began to reach for the stool, and looked back to the fiddler. "…Excuse me?"

"Build a fire and cook us some food." He simply answered.

She blinked, and then turned back to him. She looked to the hearth, and then back to the man. "…What are you talking about?"

"And your father said you were well-learned…" He groaned. "You do understand what it means to build a fire and cook, do you not?"

"Of course I do!" Amelia responded. "What are you talking about telling me to do those things?"

"Well, you're hungry, aren't you?" He answered. "So am I. Do you think food just makes its own fire, leaps into the pot, and cooks itself?"

"Of course not, but…don't you have a cook to do this for you?"

The fiddler frowned. "…Certainly…right out next to the carriage in the manor lined up with the other servants." He sarcastically retorted.

The young woman was still stunned. "Then…shouldn't we go to town to sup?"

"Don't be ridiculous. We can make a meal for a tenth of the price of the cheapest inn. We don't have that kind of money."

She blinked, looking increasingly agitated. "Well…then…then…"

The man suddenly held up a hand.

"Stop there." He said flatly. Suddenly, he inhaled deeply…and then spoke in a mockery of her voice. "'Oh, I can't sit here in front of that filthy ash heap tending a fire and making a meal! That's servant work! I'm too young and beautiful and superior for such trifles! This is so demeaning! I could just die! I'd rather starve than be in such a poor position!'"

He dropped his hand and frowned at her.

"…And, in the end, as always, 'your highness'…you will do what I tell you because you will realize that you're not living like a princess anymore and you want the pain in your stomach to go away, even if it means troubling yourself with such shameful work as making a fire and cooking a meal!" He continued. "Listen, Miss High-and-Mighty…all of your notions of what is 'noble' or 'appropriate' or 'demeaning' are things that you nobles make up so that you have an excuse to not do an honest day's work in your entire lives. But when you're not rich and in your palace surrounded by servants, you have to do a lot of things you've never dreamed of doing. You may think of yourself as learned and wise and higher than everyone else…but if you can't keep yourself warm or fed, all the book knowledge in the world is meaningless. If you can't do this, then nothing else makes a difference. So for once…just this _one_ time…" He said as he held up a finger. "Could we _please_ spare the whining and groaning like a mule and just deal with it?"

Amelia was left standing in silence. She stared open-mouthed back at the fiddler, especially at his mockery of her. Never before had anyone done so openly to her face, and it filled her with anger…but also a touch of hurt. After all, the impression was close to her own tone…enough to where it called to mind things about herself that she realized were flaws both in voice and manners. Plus…this latest tongue lashing reminded her about her state in life yet again, and how she was condemned to the life of a peasant and forced into this demeaning manual labor…

Yet worse of all…it made her realize something else. She had thought she was superior not only to all suitors, but to all women. She had thought by virtue of her beauty that she was a living goddess, far above and beyond any other woman. If any man ever married her, she would be far more than they would ever possibly deserve. Yet now, in the presence of this fiddler that she loathed beyond measure, she was realizing something else. _He wasn't pleased with her._ For all of her nobility and learning, he thought she wasn't worth very much to him. At first, she merely dismissed this as a foolish man not realizing what an unworthy gift he had gotten, that she was worth ten thousand of him. Yet as time went on…she began to realize that wasn't the case. She was frightened and disgusted at things he went straight up against. He had skills on how to keep himself self-sufficient and alive…while she couldn't even hold a broom properly. Such was the worse feeling of all that she slowly realized…something she hated to admit and wouldn't fully do so at this point…

There were at least a few tasks, no matter how meager and base, that other women could do better than her.

With that in mind, she finally drew herself up and put away her anger. She closed her eyes, and bowed her head slightly. This was easily the most humiliating thing she had done yet…but she had no choice. Through clenched teeth, barely restraining her anger, she spoke out to the fiddler.

"…I was never taught how to build a fire or prepare a meal." She stated plainly, neither in regret or in anger. "I would need to see how to do one first before I could carry it out." It wasn't a true request…and that was what she intended. She didn't want to actually ask the fiddler for anything if she could avoid it. However, in the end, realizing she may not get assistance otherwise…and hating that she had to ask for assistance in the first place, she half-muttered, half-spat out one additional word that she hadn't said since she was seven.

"…Please."

The fiddler, on hearing that one barely-uttered word from her, actually reacted a bit. He still looked to her sternly…but, ever-so-slightly, he seemed to soften. After all, this was the first time that the former princess hadn't demanded something. Although it had been like pulling teeth and only "halfway" at most, she did actually ask for something and said "please".

After a moment, he finally sighed.

"Watch closely. I'm going to get some brush for kindling…so put that water in the cauldron as I do that."

* * *

It took a bit longer than either of them wanted, but the fire was finally going. Amelia already dreaded making one herself. They didn't even have a tinderbox. They had to use friction of one stick within a rough hole of another one. The fiddler had said it was easier to keep a fire going than to try and rebuild one, and she couldn't argue. Her delicate hands barely managed to move the stick at half the speed necessary to get smoke, let alone a coal. They were finishing up chopping the last of the vegetables and putting them in the water in the cauldron now.

"Won't we be putting any meat in with the potatoes?" She asked. By now, she had calmed enough to where her voice was at least not harsh or snapping. As a result, the fiddler answered a bit calmer as well.

"Meat is a luxury only the rich can afford, along with sugar and butter." He answered. "Our best bet for meat now is at the festivals rather than at home. I hope you're not accustomed to it."

The former princess frowned a bit. "I am…but I suppose it's yet another thing I have to learn to do without…"

"This stew isn't going to be fantastic, but for right now if you can learn to make something palatable, I'll be satisfied. Eventually we'll hopefully get some spice to at least give it a touch of flavor." With the last of the vegetables in, he began to stiffly rise, minding his back. "Alright…let's get it over the fire while it's still only warm."

Amelia frowned at it. Only when the fiddler was standing did she realize she had to rise as well, and sighed as she began to get up. "This is barely enough to feed both of us…"

"Which only means more money will have to come in tomorrow so we can purchase more food." He answered as he waited for Amelia to grab on along with him. She hesitated, but finally reached forward and did so with not much in the way of complaint. With both holding the handle, they moved over to the fireplace. "Now watch your hands. You touch the sides and you may get burned."

"Don't worry about that." The woman muttered as they both raised the kettle inside and hung it in. She was awkward and only tentatively helping, with him doing most of the work and grunting in pain from the strain on his back, but in the end it was inside. He began to reach for the ladle next.

"I have to make regular payments on this property, which means that part of whatever we live off of has to go to my friend."

The former princess frowned. "I think you're being cheated on this property…considering that this is practically a tool shed…"

"We also bought everything within it, behind it, and the surrounding land." He answered. "It's only about an acre, granted…but one day we might be able to provide for ourselves a bit if we can clear the trees. That will take time and energy we don't have, however…at least not until I recover from my back injury, assuming I ever do. The only source of income I have at the moment is playing my father's fiddle, and I was barely feeding myself before then. All of what I make will have to go toward the payments for the property, which means the responsibility for feeding us will fall to you."

Amelia actually looked up a bit at that. "Wha…me?"

"That means you'll have to work." The man answered as he placed the ladle in the pot and then went over to his sack again. He picked it up and began to rummage through it a bit. "I'm not sure if you're any good at manual tasks, but I can see you're not suited at all for labor clearly enough. So I'm going to start you with something simple and we'll see if it works out."

He soon pulled out what looked like, to Amelia, a group of thin sticks and something radial, like a sun, made out of the same material. He moved over to her afterward. "Now…sit on the stool and watch the pot. Stir it occasionally to make sure it's even. Keep stoking the fire and don't let it go out if it burns low. It's very easy. Just use the poker to move things inside it around until the fire blazes again. And while you're watching it…"

He held out the radial array in front of her. Amelia blinked at it.

"Go on, take it." He told her.

The woman hesitated, but then reached out and tentatively took it from him, using just her fingers and looking at it with an uncertain look and her normal disdain for anything filthy. She slowly drew it to herself.

"What…is it?"

"The beginning of a basket." He answered. "You're not used to any work…so very well. You can sit in here and weave baskets to sell. All you have to do is work with your hands."

"Baskets…to sell?" She asked uncertainly.

The man sighed. "…Yes. This wood doesn't have much but we can get plenty of materials for this."

"I…I don't know the first thing about weaving a basket!" She protested. In truth, that wasn't all. She felt greater outrage than that. She couldn't believe the idea…her sitting around using her delicate hands to work a bunch of filthy sticks into some crude, dirty thing that only a pauper would use. Just two days ago she had been reclining on her couch reading one of her many books, surrounded by luxury and beauty…and just thinking of the fact that she found herself doing such a mundane task for the most common and poor individuals… Yet she didn't complain more about that. She didn't want to be reprimanded again.

The fiddler again took a moment to be patient, and then leaned in closer to her. "…It's quite simple. I'm not expecting you to be perfect at first, but hopefully if you can make something that will work, we can make some money off of it. Look…watch this."

He reached into the sack again, and emerged with a group of straws. Coming up to her again, he took one of the straws and slipped it in with the others. After that, he began to weave.

"See? Very simple. Work them in…out…in…out…alternating. Make sure the next row alternates with the bottom one. Just follow these large straws that I started with. Once it gets to be about the width of a saucer, just turn the big straws up and keep weaving to make the stem. Make it tighter if it gets too wide. If you do this well, I'll show you how to do a base yourself as well as the rim."

She continued to look uncomfortable. "But…but I…"

He groaned, cutting her off. "Look…this is one of the easiest things you can do. Just sit here and weave. You don't have to do any hard labor or gather. Now here you go."

Before she could protest anymore, the partially-made basket was thrust back in her hands. He grunted and rose to her feet. "Now I'm going to go and gather some firewood. I can't chop anymore with this back so I'm going to have to pick up whatever is already dead and on the ground. I'll be back in a while…so just sit here, tend the fire, stir the pot, and weave."

With that, he turned and walked out. Amelia tried to protest again…but realized she couldn't say anything else that he hadn't heard. By the time she began to think of something, he had already gone out the door and let it shut behind him. Soon…she was alone.

The former princess frowned, suppressing another scowl. Now that he had left, the full measure of this indignity came upon her. She had been a rich and noble woman such a short time ago that she still had a hard time believing she was here. She might as well have been teleported to Hell, in her mind, for she could hardly think of anything more insulting, degrading, or harder than this. In spite of all the reassurances the fiddler gave her about how simple this was, she hadn't worked anything in her fingers in her entire life. She couldn't even recall the last time she saw a basket…but the ones that came to mind were all elegantly made from fine craftsmen. Yet even then, she thought little of them. Weaving a basket was something only a peasant would do…the lowest of the low…

Frowning, she finally brought the half-made basket over on her lap. She glared at it a moment. Even the straw seemed dirty…leaving marks on her hands as she touched it. She hated even handling this material. Plus, it seemed like everything was so hard and crude here…that she had to be forceful with everything. Still frowning, she began to move a straw…

_I don't believe this… I was the greatest princess in this country… All of those men came at the bequest of my father just to vie for my hand in marriage…kings…dukes…barons… I barely had to handle anything myself because of my servants. I had such fine meals and lived in such a lovely castle…_

She tried to move the straw in one, expecting it to be as easy as thread. However…she soon found it was much harder. Much stiffer and unwilling to move. She tried to work with it, but as someone who had very little skill working with her fingers, the straw soon jerked around every which way, either from her putting too little power into it or too much. Furthermore, as she pushed harder, it began to hurt her fingers.

_Now look at me…stuck in this filthy shack…cooking bland, half-wilted food…tending a fire like a scullery maid…and trying to put this dirty bunch of sticks together into a basket…_

She tried to bend the straw in next…but it wouldn't go. It was too stiff, and she lacked the power and motor control. She kept trying, but to no avail. Gritting her teeth, she continued to try and weave…yet could barely bend it inward…

_I still can't believe this happened to me! I had everything! I was the finest lady on the entire continent! How did I end up at this point? Working in such a meager station like the lowliest serf?_

With a great deal of effort, twisting the half-made basket around, angling it and continuing to strain and struggle, she finally got in a "half" weave. She tried moving on from there…but it was only harder than before. She actually began to breathe harder as she tried to force it in…

_…I'm not getting out of here. This is what I have to look forward to every day for the rest of my life. Until all of my beauty fades and my hands are covered with calluses. Until I've turned old and gray and have lost any chance at every holding myself upright or walking or riding again…this is my miserable life. Having to do everything myself. Living in this dirty, one-room hovel. Toiling over a fire. Cooking meals like a galley cook. Weaving these sticks together to make-_

The woman's chain of thought was cut off as, while trying to weave another straw in with the rest of the basket, it suddenly broke free, snapped up, and whipped her in the cheek. It was the most painful thing, by far, she had felt yet, and she actually cried out and dropped the basket. One of her hands went up and cradled her cheek in pain.

Yet as she held it there…she noticed something. It felt a bit warm…and not just from the pain of being "whipped" by the straw. Confused, she pulled her hand away…and actually gasped a bit at what she saw.

There was a small amount of blood on her fingers.

The woman was shocked all over again…but only for a moment. This was only the second day…the second day of what could be thirty, forty, fifty, sixty years of this…of this pain and drudgery and dishonor…

Unable to take it any longer, the woman simply threw the basket across the small room, brought her legs and knees up to herself, put her arms around them, and began to cry.

* * *

Amelia didn't know how long she sat there crying…and frankly, she didn't care. She was too miserable, too wrought with depression over her dismal fate. She didn't care as the sun both lowered along with the flames of the fire. Though it diminished into red coals, and the sun lowering gradually plunged the shack into darkness, she didn't care. Even when the cauldron went from boiling to simmering to nothing, she still didn't react. She continued to lie there, unable to think of anything but how hellish her life would be from now on…how she couldn't see herself ever being happy or content ever again. If she could have just lied down there and died, she would have been satisfied. She hated the hard floor, the dusty shack…and, most of all, the annoying gnawing of her stomach from lack of food…

She barely heard when the sounds of a wheelbarrow creaking pulled in front of the house. Soon after came the sounds of footsteps approaching the door, and it opened a moment later. Struggling a bit, the fiddler walked inside, carrying a load of sticks in his arms as best as he could, wincing the whole way.

"This is all I could find for now, but it should easily get us through tonight… It's dark in here…did that old wood burn out already?"

As he walked in, however, and looked around a bit, he paused. He saw Amelia in her current position, and then looked to the fire.

"What the…?"

He moved over to fireplace bin and placed the wood inside, and then took a look at the fire.

"…Some of these logs aren't even singed. Weren't you turning it?"

He began to reach for the poker to start stirring the fire around, but before he could even jab it inside…he paused again and looked to the pot. "This isn't even simmering…" He reached his finger inside and felt. "…and it's cold on top…" He moved to the ladle and tried to turn it…only to feel it get stuck. "…and burnt on the bottom!" He tossed the utensil back inside. "For goodness sakes…all you had to do was stir a pot and poke a fire! I don't suppose you finished that basket, did you?"

He looked around a bit, as Amelia didn't react to any of this. She stayed in her current position. He soon spotted the basket-in-progress lying in a corner.

"Of course not…" He muttered in increasing anger. "Three simple tasks that can't even make someone break a sweat, and you couldn't even do those. All you could do is sit there and cry this whole time and give yourself a litany of pity about how poor and miserable your fate is…" He turned to her with a frown. "Well guess what? _Now_ you're definitely not going to eat for another hour, and it's going to be far worse tasting than the bread and cheese you got yesterday! Could you just…just _once_…"

Suddenly, the young woman snapped up and glared at the fiddler, her cheeks still stained with tears, but also fury.

"I _tried_ to weave that wretched basket, alright?!" She retorted. "The accursed straw broke loose and whipped me in the face! I can't work this like you can! I'm a princess, not a commoner! I've never done anything like this in my life!"

"You've never done _anything_ for yourself in your entire life!" The fiddler came back just as strong. "Do you think you're going to start by giving up before you've even begun? I thought you were supposed to be so 'superior' to everyone? You can't make a fire…you can't cook…you can't even work a bit of straw! Is there anything you _can_ do besides complain and fail at everything? You have me at my wit's end!"

"The least you could do is show me some concern!" Amelia continued to shout. "I'm a fair, delicate creature! I'm not some unwashed peasant who spent his life doing manual labor! I was rich and powerful and lived in luxury, and now I'm sentenced to this miserable life! Don't you feel the least bit of pity that I'm such a wretched creature now?"

"Seeing as this 'miserable life' is the only thing I've ever known, no, I don't!" He responded. "Your tantrums…your indignation…your weeping…none of that does us any good! We're both hungry and tired and if we want any relief from any of that we have to actually do some work for it! Crying all day isn't going to get you any food in your stomach! Neither will lamenting about how you ended up stuck with me! So far, you've been good for practically nothing and you don't see me constantly complaining about the fact that I've got another mouth to provide for!"

Amelia's anger held for a moment, but as the fiddler went on, she only lost it and had it replaced with sadness once again. Finally, she simply turned away, buried her head against her knees again, and then started sobbing once again.

The fiddler grit his teeth, rolled his eyes, and looked ready to hit something at that. Yet after pausing a moment, he looked away and put his hand against the wall. He leaned against it a moment and took in some deep breaths, pausing just to make himself calm down. Amelia didn't care. She continued to hold her legs to herself and cried into them, although they were already soaked with her tears. The poor man continued to hold and breathe, gradually slowing both in his rate and intensity, and easing up again. Slowly, he went quiet again, and then exhaled one last time to stabilize himself.

Much calmer, he leaned off of the wall and turned to her. His face was softer now, and he slowly walked over to her side as she continued to cry. Gritting his teeth again in discomfort, he made himself lower down in front of her.

"Alright…I suppose this is a bit 'rough' on you if for no other reason than it's a shock to find yourself here…" He finally said in a softer tone. It sounded like he was forcing himself to speak that way, but he figured he'd 'catch more flies with honey than vinegar'. "We're not getting anywhere being at each other's throats. Like it or not, we're married…which means we have to work together and not against each other."

Amelia continued to cry, but the softer voice and gentler approach was making her slow a bit.

"Basket weaving is obviously not something we can go right into doing." He told her. "But there's other jobs besides that. In the meantime, for right now, since we have a bit of food to tide us over…let's just finish cooking dinner and cleaning the house, and then we'll eat, get to bed, and tomorrow morning we'll try something new."

The former princess continued to cry a bit longer, but gradually slowed to a halt. She sniffled once or twice, and then looked up and brushed her hair a bit out of her face. Although her eyes were still streaked and red, she looked up to the fiddler. "But…where will we sleep? There aren't any beds in here…"

"I gathered some straw along with the wood." He told her. "We'll sleep on that."

She clearly began to tense up again, so he sighed and then spoke more calmly.

"Listen…it's perfectly fresh. No mold or rot or anything. We'll spread some sheets over it and it will be just like a mattress. We won't even have to sleep in the same pile. I'm not foolish enough to think you're willing to do that. We'll have to clean it up tomorrow morning, but we won't be sleeping next to each other."

The young woman hesitated. Her face grimaced, clearly showing more anger and indignation. She nearly opened it once or twice, and the fiddler braced himself for another tirade, based on appearances. Yet Amelia thought about this for a moment…thought about how her last tantrum had only shorted her an earlier meal and caused another argument…

Finally, she closed her eyes, sighed, and then spoke in a more controlled voice. "Very well." She finally stated, in a dignified, but not necessarily prideful, tone.

The fiddler seemed to realize that was as good as he was going to get. As a result, he got up again and began to inch back toward the fire.

"Here…you just poke the hearth while I stir the pot."

* * *

Amelia managed to stop crying, but that didn't make things any less miserable, unfortunately. Thanks to her neglect, the food was not only bland and terrible, but also half burnt and half undercooked. They were fortunate there was no meat in it or in addition to being barely palatable it would have also made them sick. Hungry as they both were, both were reluctant to swallow it down. Yet they couldn't assuage their hunger without eating every last bite of their meager portions, and so they forced themselves to gulp them down.

After that came time for bed. That was even worse. In spite of the fiddler's kind reassurances, the only thing that got Amelia to sleep was exhaustion from walking all day. The straw poked into and through the sheet and drove through her clothes and into her. And in spite of the fact that they had cleaned out the interior very well before lying down (although the fiddler did the far majority of the work), she still feared spiders, mice, and all manner of other loathsome things crawling up to and over her as she slept.

Even after exhaustion had finally made her fall asleep, when she woke up the next day she was no better. Now her body was stiff and tender both from the straw poking her all night long as well having to sleep with barely any padding between her and a rough floor. It would have been hard enough for anyone to take, but to someone who was rather delicate from years of not doing any "rough activity", it was practically a nightmare. She barely felt like moving the next day, but the fiddler made her get up none the less and get to work trying to finish up cleaning, as well as drawing the water for the first time and washing up from the night before.

She was scarcely better than yesterday, but she managed to at least do it without complaining, although it was uncomfortable just as before and made her more miserable to think she would be getting up early to do chores and work every day for the rest of her life. She had barely started on those day's tasks with extreme reluctance when the fiddler announced he'd be leaving for a couple hours, but would be back soon, hopefully with something better for her to do that was easier.

Although he ended up being gone for a good three hours, the young woman barely managed to get the chores done by the time he returned, and even then not that well. She could barely scour a pot, due to her lack of experience doing any sort of work. The fiddler was visibly displeased, but he didn't push it as he brought her into the house, presenting her with a few items, including a bag of flax and a bobbin.

"Alright…since it'll take far too long for you to get good at basket weaving, let's try spinning. It's even simpler. Once again, all you have to do is sit here. We buy flax from town, and then you spin it into thread. The flax farmers buy it back from us and sell it for a profit to themselves."

He soon outlined the whole process, including showing how to hold the staff with the raw flax wound on one end, how to extend it, and how to spin and gather it around the bobbin. It took about fifteen minutes in all, and a few demonstrations, before he passed the materials over to her. Yet even then, he had to help her out with getting ready. She seemed incapable even of getting her hands in the proper position, and even then was highly awkward, like a child vaguely trying to pantomime an adult.

At last, however, he got it "as good as it was going to get". With that, he leaned back. "That'll have to do. Now you do this today. I need to get to work myself, so I'm headed to the crossroads leading into town and down the main road. If you need me for anything, I'll be right there playing, so just run out and get me. Now…" He gave her a firmer look here. "_Please_…no matter how hard it gets or difficult…do _not_ stop spinning until you get this entire bag done. Seriously…we need to make some money. I'll be back later and bring it to town, and whatever you make we'll eat off of today, so it's important."

With that, he had gone off and left her to her work. Spinning was even more degrading than basket weaving. That was something even married common women didn't do regularly. However, the way the fiddler had spoken to her, about how much this was necessary…she gave it a try none the less.

She was soon more tempted to give up today than yesterday. It wasn't long before she struggled with the bobbin, the spindle, and the flax itself so much that her delicate fingers, which hadn't yet even begun to get rough, had the items slip into the cracks and cut her and draw blood. As bad as she thought yesterday was…today was far worse. She was shocked at first and actually did stop for about fifteen minutes…but then, swallowing it back, she rinsed her fingers and went back to it. Much as she hated to do this work…there was a new sensation coming into her.

Anger that she couldn't do something that even the most ignorant common folk could do…

And so, she took it up and kept working. For her effort, she soon got more cuts. Eventually, it grew so bad that her fingers grew sticky, to the point where she no longer had to use her tongue to make the flax stick together, and finally had to try and pause to wash them off. However, they were still sore and tender, and things only got worse as she continued to work with them. Eventually, the experience became painful as her fingers began to swell and throb while she worked with them, which only made them get cut further as she struggled to work. It made her have more mistakes, and as she struggled to keep going it only put her into further genuine pain.

When the fiddler finally came back later in the afternoon, he saw that she had only gotten through a little over half of the bag of flax. Hence, the first thing he did was sigh on walking inside, setting down the fiddle and shutting the door behind him.

"…I suppose it was too much to hope for that you could spin one bag." He finally said. He moved over to the spools she had already made. "Let's check out how you did. See how the quality is…"

The former princess finally put down the tools here. Now that she had a moment, she looked to her fingers, and she nearly wanted to cry again at what she saw. They were covered with cuts from working with the flax…and so terribly red and swollen… To think they used to be so dainty and fair…

The fiddler leaned down and picked up a roll. He looked it over a moment, and then frowned.

"Garbage." He stated.

Immediately, Amelia snapped to him. "What?" She retorted, actually indignant. "That was my best spool! It took me an hour to make that!"

"And it's garbage." The man flatly retorted. He held the spool in front of her. "Look. It's completely stained with blood."

"This…this flax cut my fingers!"

"It doesn't matter. Would you want bloody thread to go into making your clothing?" He answered. "It ruins it. That means it's garbage." He threw the roll into the fireplace. He soon picked up another. "Stained…garbage." He threw it in as well and picked up another. "Garbage." Another. "Garbage. Garbage. Garbage… Are there _any _here that don't have blood on them? We can't sell any of these!"

The former princess' anger flared at this…but it wasn't just anger this time. She had done her best that day to actually try and make the linen thread, despite knowing nothing about it. She had continued to work no matter how much it hurt and how degrading she thought it was. And now…now the man was throwing away the work she had done all day just so easily. Casting aside everything she had done as if it was meaningless when she had genuinely tried.

In spite of how much she hated this work and lifestyle…that almost made her want to cry more than yesterday…

When the last spool was in the fireplace, the fiddler put a hand to his brow, and moved over to the stool and sat down on it. As he did, she spoke up. "I did what you told me. I didn't give up. I kept-"

"I know…I know…" He cut off tiredly and more calmly. "That doesn't change the fact that you're not suited for this at all. It doesn't matter if you'll get a callus eventually…I can't keep buying flax from those farmers to give you the chance to get one. I didn't make much money today…less than I'd normally do for just myself. I'm starting to think I got cheated when I received you for free…"

This was enough to make Amelia's anger boil again. However, before she could outburst, he exhaled and looked up.

"Alright…" He stated. "We've got one other option, but it's going to use up the remaining money we got from the sale of your items if it doesn't work, so it _has_ to yield a profit or we'll be in real trouble, especially since this is the last money we have saved up."

Grunting a bit, he began to push up again, prompting the former princess to look to him in confusion. "Where are you going?"

"Back into town. I'll have to use our savings to pay for supper tonight…as well as run into one more friend of mine and hope his wife is still in the business…"

* * *

Amelia was left to clean up her mess. As it was getting late, and once again hunger was gnawing at her belly…a sensation she was quickly getting tired of…she went ahead and tried her hand at building a fire. Unfortunately, try as she might, she only got her hands rubbed raw for the attempt. She just didn't have the power or skill. It again cause the sensation inside her from before…as well as what the fiddler had said…

_I'm starting to think I got cheated when I received you for free…_

The young woman had spent her entire life hearing how wonderful, beautiful, magnificent, talented, intelligent, and all-together great she was. This was the first time someone had ever insulted her in such a way. Yet the part that made her more tense than anything else was the fact that he wasn't joking around or mocking her…but serious. She really did think she had no worth, and although she wanted to think it was due to his fault for bringing her into this state…she knew deep down inside it was simply because she was of no use to him…

At any rate, when she decided to step outside to get some fresh air, she noticed that the wheelbarrow that he had used to move firewood was gone. She was curious to this, but honestly didn't really care too much. After all, it didn't help her with the chores…or the fact that her fingers were still throbbing and hurting. Even when she rinsed them in cool water straight from the stream, they continued to ache.

At last, however, she heard the sound of the wheelbarrow coming up the path. An odd clinking sound accompanied it. She looked to it and soon afterward the fiddler came around the edge of the road and started to approach. He was pushing the wheelbarrow…which was so full at this point it was nearly overflowing. It wasn't full of firewood this time. Instead, it was filled with earthenware pottery. He brought it up to the edge of the house, and then came to a halt. After that, he grasped his back with a wince as he walked up to her.

"Alright…this is pretty much the simplest job you can possibly do." He stated. "It was a bit expensive, though, so it's important that you do it well. There's a friend of mine in town who works with his wife as a clay potter. The problem is that it's a two person job, and so they lose productivity when one of them has to go to town to actually sell the pottery. So here's what happened…he gave me this to him for the day on 'loan'."

He looked up to the former princess. "Tomorrow morning, when the market opens…you take this pottery up to town, set it out, and then just sit there and sell it. Very simple. Very easy. Doesn't require any skill at all. Stay until the market closes then come home with the money and whatever's left. I take what's left back to him along with the cost, and then we keep the profit for ourselves. Try to make a good profit on it, though. We'll eat off of that and do it again the next day."

Amelia was still hesitant about this. "You mean…I should just sit in the market? In…in public?" The idea made her wince.

The fiddler frowned. "What's wrong with that? This is a very simple job and it doesn't require any money or skill. If you smile a bit instead of frowning and crying all the time…who knows? You might actually be pretty good at it."

The woman continued to grimace. At least until now she lived a mostly "private" life, but now she'd definitely be out in the open for all to see. She still hated the idea that she had to reserve her beauty and features to one lowly serf…but now to put it on display selling a bunch of clay pots, of all things… Still, she had to admit, it was better than this hovel. She had spotted a mouse last night and it nearly scared her to death to know she was sleeping on the floor with them running around. Just being out of the dirty shack for a while might be helpful, especially if it was in such a splendid city…

Finally, she exhaled. "…Very well. I suppose I'll have nothing better."

* * *

The next morning was sunny. The sky was clear yet it wasn't too warm. It would normally be a nice day for anyone else. However, the former princess only partially enjoyed it. After all, she had to go out on the rough road again, although her feet were finally feeling better from her first walk there and, to be honest, she was finally adjusting a bit to walking around all the time. At least, in terms of how her feet felt. The rest of her was another matter. After eating only meager meals for three days, the effects of hunger were starting to be felt. Even the short trip to town was more exhausting than the walk had been there, and she was feeling a bit weak and even quivering a bit by the time she and the fiddler had reached the crossroads.

Once there, he set the wheelbarrow down that was filled with pottery and looked to her. "Alright…this is where I leave you. I'll be playing here. If you have any trouble, you know where to find me, but make sure you take up all the pottery you haven't sold yet and bring it with you or someone will just steal it."

The young woman reacted here, however, beginning to look confused again…and even a little fearful. "Wait…you're just…leaving me to go by myself? Into a city market? Alone? Isn't it dangerous…?"

"This city is safer than most, but even if it wasn't, we don't have a choice." The fiddler answered. "We have to split up if we want to make more money. You can count, right?"

"Of course I can count, but-"

"Alright…then keep track of how much we sell so we don't get cheated when we pay back the different in price to the potters."

Amelia still looked anxious. "But I thought you were going with me…?"

"If I could go with you, I'd just as soon sell the pottery myself." The fiddler answered a bit flatly. "Now go on. The market's already open and you need to get a good spot."

The former princess continued to hesitate. She didn't know she'd be not only out in public but by herself on this… However, she'd prefer it if she didn't have to be next to her unexpected husband anyway. With that in mind, she went for the wheelbarrow.

* * *

Even moving it along wasn't easy for someone who had never done any real work in her life, especially since it was loaded to the brim with earthenware. The fiddler actually had to chase after her for the first 100 feet or so just to make sure she held the wheelbarrow enough to keep it going straight without dumping anything. She finally got the hang of it, but soon she was unhappy all over again as she found it wasn't nearly as easy as the fiddler made it look. She had to exert some power to keep her end up and keep it balanced, and soon the lack of strength on her part and the roughness of the road began to tire her. She only was able to walk a relatively short distance before she had to rest temporarily. So it ended up not being for another full half hour that she finally crossed into the city.

Being her first time actually in the city of King Grizzlebeard, the woman was amazed to see it was just as lovely on the inside as the outside, with planted trees, fountains, and stone paths so smooth that it was far easier to roll the wheelbarrow along this than anywhere outside of the town. What more…she also saw the castle far in the distance. She tried not to stare at it, but kept finding herself looking there…at how large, warm, and inviting it looked…and thought of the one-room, half-broken shack she lived in with the fiddler, realizing she could have easily had that.

It brought on the same onrush of emotions as she had when she first came into the country, angering her further at what she had cast aside. By this point…she realized that aside from the beard…he was the only man in that chamber who neither laughed at the others nor grew upset at the insults. It was something she had never bothered to think about before, but only now did her memory let her realize it. Perhaps he had been a better gentleman than the others as well as being wealthier than them…

At any rate, she put it out of her head by the time she reached the market. It was cleaner here than in the similar area of her own former kingdom, but still wasn't terribly appealing. Out in the market, some were selling "dry" goods like her, such as tools, hay, grain, and furniture, but there was also a lot of food selling and livestock sales as well. That meant the pungent aromas of numerous animals crammed together inside smelly stalls and cages, the sounds of donkeys braying, chickens clucking, sheep bleating, and dogs barking, and lots of people shouting, selling, taking orders, or making requests. Not only that, but she soon saw not far into the marketplace area that things grew rather busy, until she could barely navigate through the crowds that were piled up on either side.

As she struggled to keep her goods balanced and keep moving, people continuously ran into her. They only broke whenever wagons or horses moved through, and Amelia, barely able to navigate the wheelbarrow, had a hard time shifting it. As a result of all of this, she was growing tired and irritable again. And she was especially angry at how people kept bumping into her. In her civilian clothing, with her beautiful hair gathered and kept under a hat, she was constantly mistreated like any other peasant. It was making her very annoyed…but also increasingly distressed. She wasn't used to being pushed around like this, navigating through so many people alone without anyone to help her, and being so confused. She hadn't come across anywhere that looked like it had an open space. When she tried going to an open stall, someone had informed her those were all either owned or rented. She'd have to sit in the street in the market. Clean as the city was, that was still rather disgusting to her… On top of all of that, she was getting tired again from holding the wheelbarrow for so long. She hadn't let it down since she came in…

"Oh…young lady!"

The former princess turned her head a bit at that. Although the marketplace was crowded, her area was parted enough at the moment to where she was the only one that comment could have been directed to. On hearing it, she turned her head to the side.

Seated against one of the walls making up the lane down the marketplace were the "poorer" vendors, ones rather like Amelia, to be honest. They had only set out some rough cloth and then put their goods on them. One was selling spools, something that made Amelia grimace to remember. Another was selling iron skillets. The one who had addressed her, however, was an older woman dressed in clothing much older and filthier than Amelia's, selling what looked like turnips. Her own looked practically elegant by comparison. Furthermore…the woman's face was one of the ugliest that Amelia had ever seen in her life. Deeply creased, tanned to looking almost like leather, with one dead eye in one socket turned in one direction permanently. The young woman made no attempt to hide her revulsion on seeing her, actually shrinking back a bit in disgust.

At any rate, the woman was perfectly cordial. The one attractive thing about her was her pleasant smile. "You're new to the market, aren't you, dear?"

The former princess could only stare back. She was so disgusted she couldn't even respond to such a simple question. However, the old lady didn't seem to mind that. Instead, she merely reached out and patted nearby…what happened to be an open space.

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you that it's mostly dog-eat-dog any further on. People come early, get places, and don't give them up for the rest of the day. But there's plenty of room right here, and we can always make room for more. Just sit between me and Big Jack right here."

Amelia, still looking rather disgusted at the woman, who had to be half-blind if she couldn't see the loathing on the young woman's face, looked up to the other man. "Big Jack" was covered with pitch from all of the ironworking he had done to make his skillets, and he had marks of old burns on his forearms and even his face, producing ugly scars. He was going bald and literally smelled of crude remnants of iron impurities and ash. He looked amiable enough…not that the former princess noticed. She was too focused on her appearance.

"Everyone always watches out for each other around here." The old lady reassured with the same smile. "We all keep an eye on each other's goods. No one picking holes in each other's coats at this spot."

However, the young woman merely frowned slightly, then turned away…her head raising a bit as she elevated her head slightly, making her regain a bit of her "superior air". "Certainly not." She flatly stated. "I'll look elsewhere, thank you."

The smile faltered on the old woman, although she looked more surprised than angry. "Are you sure? A pretty young lady like yourself looks kind of delicate, if you don't mind me saying so. It's better to stay here where no one can cause you any trouble. Like I said, we all look out for each other."

However, Amelia didn't even give the woman another look. She was already pushing her wheelbarrow away and dismissing her. On seeing this, the old woman simply sighed and leaned back, letting her walk away.

* * *

The former princess soon realized that the old woman was telling the truth about a spot, at least. It was all taken from that point on, but it wouldn't have mattered if it wasn't. She couldn't stomach the fact that she would have to sit next to most of those people. Yet as she moved on, the market eventually grew so thick and so many people ran into her that she feared she'd break her wares before long. In addition, she was growing progressively more tired and weak from the lack of food. Finally, she realized she could go no further on and turned the cart around.

As she wheeled it out again, back toward the front of the market, and the crowds thinned out on a wider portion of the road, she soon realized something. If she went back that way…she'd walk right past the vendors she had snubbed earlier. The thought of it nearly made her blood boil. Much as she thought she was superior to any peasant in the market, her pride further wouldn't let her march back across from them, revealing she had indeed found nothing, and having them taunt her by asking her to sit down yet again. She didn't want to live with the embarrassment of being made a fool again. Her 'husband' already did that far too often back at their 'home'. With that in mind, she became more desperate than ever to find a place to set up her wares, but found nothing.

Then, she finally saw something. She noticed in the wider parts of the road, like the one she was on right now, some of the vendors had set up stalls right in the middle of the lane, and had traffic move on either side. She figured that was a good strategy. You could grab individuals coming from both sides like that. Furthermore…she was in a wider portion of the road right now herself, and many people were steering clear of the middle of the path. She might not have had a stall, but she figured that didn't really matter. She could easily set her wares on the ground. With that in mind, she finally came to a halt.

After resting for a few minutes to let her muscles relax, she began to set things up. After carefully spreading out the cloth, she removed the pottery bit by bit and set it up. At least, in this regard, she had some sense of what was "pleasing" to the eye, putting the pottery into its proper categories and grouping to be the most eye catching. Yet even as she did so, she couldn't help but feel how coarse and gritty the surfaces felt. They were well made enough, but not up to palace standards. She had a hard time believing anyone would buy them…but they were better than her baskets and spools at least, she reasoned. By the time she had set the last out, she had almost covered the entire cloth. That done, she finally seated herself on one side, drawing her legs and arms up to herself, resting her arms on her knees, and then waited.

Time ticked by for a few minutes. The fiddler had been right in one regard…this was easy enough. She wasn't exactly sure what she was supposed to do when someone came buying, but just sitting here wasn't work at all. Unfortunately, it had a side effect. Now that she was merely sitting there waiting for someone to come by, she was free to start thinking of her situation again. She didn't give into anger this time, but still felt like weeping. Here she was…not even a week out of being a princess…and stuck selling a few pieces of molded, dirty clay in the middle of a common marketplace. It dragged her face down and soon had her resting her chin on her knees. The less she tried to think about it, the more miserable she became…until she felt her eyes on the verge of stinging again…

"Excuse me? Miss?"

The former princess paused on hearing that. It was coming from in front of her. There was another peasant, although one more well off than she, standing in front of her setup. He was fairly plain, like most of the townsfolk seemed to be…but on seeing her face, with beauty that was stunning enough to usually captivate the mind and heart of whoever looked at it first, the villager actually pulled back slightly. At first, Amelia was confused by this, but then the peasant got over it, and leaned in close again. When he did, he smiled even more pleasantly…and seemed to be taken with Amelia's beauty as he pointed downward.

"Are you selling these?"

The former princess hesitated. She had been so self-absorbed she had honestly nearly forgotten about selling the pottery in the first place. As a result, she only slowly nodded once back. The man, in turn, took up a small jug and held it up to her.

"In that case, I'd like to purchase this. Will five do?"

Amelia stared back a bit blankly…and then realized she had made a mistake. She had never asked how much the pottery should be sold for. Using her own frames of reference were useless. She had no idea how much was a lot of money and how much was little, as she had never gone out trying to purchase anything before. As a result, she could only stare back uncertainly for a moment, and answer even more hesitantly.

"I…I'm not sure…"

The man paused on hearing that, his smile faltering momentarily…which only served to confuse the princess more. However, he then smiled a bit more.

"Well…then how about ten?"

Now Amelia was very surprised. He obviously took her hesitancy as a sign that she thought his offered price was too low. She had no idea how much five and ten were by themselves…but she wasn't such a dullard to not realize he had doubled the price almost instantly. And so, she simply gave a nod in response. In moments, the man was reaching out with some coins for her. She held a moment, but then put out her hands and let them be put inside.

The money was dirty, old, and grimy from constant use…and not nearly as valuable as the gold and silver that her father had. And yet, on seeing actual money in her hands…the former princess' sadness ebbed a bit. She realized she had just done it. She had finally generated something…and, more or less, on her own. She felt a touch of pride at that…

However, it was only beginning.

Since her head had leaned up and her face was now revealed, it didn't take long for another peasant to spot her, especially since she was stationed in the middle of the wide road. Soon, he came over next, smiling pleasantly at her.

"Why, hello there, young lady. I don't believe I've ever seen anyone like you in the market before." He looked down to her wares, and then back up. "Selling pottery, eh? Well…I'm pretty stocked up myself…" He looked over the woman's face for a moment, and then smiled and shrugged. "But why not? Can always have extras, eh?" He said as he took up another pot. "I'll give you nine for it."

Amelia could only blink. "Um…alright."

"Oh, excuse me?" Another voice said, causing the former princess to turn again as the second one got out more money, just in time to see another individual coming forward to the pottery. "Is this all yours? Well…I could use a few dishes myself. Oh…these two look nice. How much are they?"

"I…I'm not sure…"

"How about seven for each?"

"…Um, very well."

Another soon pushed in. "Do you have large jugs here? Ah, you've got one. I'll give you twelve."

"Hello there, miss! Do you have any urns?"

"Oh, can I get that two-handled jug? I'll give you ten for it…unless, of course, it's worth closer to eleven."

"Oh, oh! Any more of those plates? No? …In that case, I'll take that kind."

It didn't take long for a chain-reaction to go off. The former princess saw all sorts of people coming up and beginning to look over her pottery. In a few moments, people were putting money in her hands far faster than she ever thought they would, prompting her to pull back and put them aside before it began to fall out. Yet the crowds kept coming in. Many of them just looked over her wares, but many of them bought from her…and she soon saw why. Almost all eyes were on her as she sold them. Every time she showed hesitancy or uncertainty, they raised the price. Most of them just wanted to buy something to be able to talk to her for a moment. And after a time…she realized why.

It was because she was so lovely.

On realizing that, she actually smiled a bit. It seemed she was still "superior" to the common folk in at least one sense. None of them had ever seen a young woman so beautiful before. They were all too happy to buy from her. She was actually rather flattered. Now, if only the fiddler back at home could appreciate that a bit more…and life might be just a tad bearable.

At any rate, within only five minutes, she had already sold six of the items. She realized within an hour, she might very well sell them all. Perhaps she actually was doing something right. And this work was fairly simple too… She could hardly wait to see the look on the peasant's face when she came back, to see a wagon empty of pottery and a pile of money. That'd make him eat his words earlier about her value… She actually began to daydream that she might be able to afford nicer things besides just daily food as the people continued to surround her…

When she heard something fade in on the distance…a clopping noise. She recognized it almost at once as the sound of a horse in a fierce gallop. She had heard it before, after all. But it was sharper now…and seemed to be getting louder.

"Out of the way! Out of the way!" A man yelled behind it at the top of his lungs. "Mad horse! Mad horse! Get out of the street!"

Amelia looked up to that sound, but even as she did the people around her immediately forgot her pottery, turned, and bolted for it in every direction, immediately going for the sides of the street. Not only them, but anyone on the road was moving away or even leaping onto their stalls. Suddenly finding herself alone, Amelia looked around again…and saw it.

Coming right up the street at a furious gallop was a horse without a rider…headed straight for her and not looking like it would stop anytime soon.

"Get up! Get out of there!" Someone yelled to her.

"Out of the street, you fool!"

Amelia gasped, and soon began to scramble to rise. It was a good thing she had been doing _some_ physical activity until now, because if she hadn't she never would have gotten up in time. The horse was coming in too fast. But out of sheer panic, and in spite of her weakness and hunger, she untangled her legs out from underneath her, tore to her feet, and ran to one side as fast as she could. She got out of the way just in time as the mad horse rushed right by over her collection of pottery…and stampeded it utterly.

The hooves were thrashing about so wildly that they alone smashed the bulk of it. But the fragments that went flying sailed out and smashed into whatever had escaped, cracking or damaging it or knocking it down to fracture it. It took only a heartbeat…but the insane animal didn't care. Giving an angry snort, it only continued to barrel along…leaving nothing but shards behind in its wake.

Amelia had tore away so rapidly that she was now lying on the ground, struggling to calm herself after what had just happened. Her heart was racing. Had she been a few seconds slowly, the horse would have trampled her…probably killed her. She had never been so terrified in her life…and, at the moment, didn't care whether or not she was lying in the dirty street. Yet as her wits slowly came back to her, she looked back to the cloth…and gaped even as the sounds of the mad horse went away in the distance.

All gone.

She stared for a few moments at it, her mouth slowly dropping. Finally, after a few moments of stunned silent, she pushed herself up and looked out at them a bit more closely. There was an intact pot here or there…but there couldn't be more than three or four of them. The others were damaged or completely destroyed. That horse had ruined them in moments.

The rest of the street slowly began to recover, getting over the shock. The sounds of talk began again, but Amelia didn't hear any of it. Instead, she began to rise. Staring at the sad remains of her pottery items, she slowly started to crawl back toward them, still not caring for the condition of the street. Yet as she came, a single soldier, obviously in the service of the king, panting and gasping and red-faced, rushed by, clearly trying to chase down the horse.

Yet as he saw the pottery shards, he slowed momentarily, just long enough to scoff.

"What damn fool put their wares right in the middle of the street?"

He ran on afterward, but the locals in the area overheard. Many of them muttered similar things. The former princess heard this, much as she tried not to…but no matter how much she heard or how she stared at the shards, she couldn't undo what had happened moments ago. She had nothing left now. Just a mass of refuse.

Seeing it, she couldn't help herself. She began to cry again. Even when she tried to do something in this new lifestyle…it always seemed to end in disaster.

* * *

Several hours later…and Amelia did not have any boldness or defiance. No anger or pride. Not a single whine. She simply stood with her head bowed…not out of respect, but shame in herself. This had been more than an easy job. It had been something she was actually good at. Yet all she could do now was stand and stare at the ground…as the fiddler looked over what she had brought him.

They were at the crossroads now rather than home. Amelia, not knowing any better, gathered up the fragments of her pottery and put them in the wheelbarrow. After that, she tried selling the last few intact items she had along with the ones that were only a little cracked. But that only numbered about nine items in all with little variety. Even if she was a pretty face, all of those who came to her merely smiled, shook their heads, and said she didn't have anything they were looking for. She sold one more intact item…but after that, nothing. Taking whatever money she had managed to earn, and not knowing if it was good or worthless, she brought it to the crossroads long before the market closed. He was naturally very confused, but Amelia also saw that he had failed to make even as much money as she had from the plate he kept to get alms. Getting there hadn't been easy for her, either. She was ashamed to realize that the wheelbarrow was barely any lighter for the items she sold… Yet she went up to him, stopped the wheelbarrow, and then handed him the money.

He hadn't said a word this time. He counted out the money first…meticulously, slowly, and without the slightest sign of emotion either positive or negative. He just counted.

Finally, he lowered the money, and looked up to Amelia. He moistened his lips…definitely trying to hold back.

"…This isn't nearly enough to pay for all of them." He said quietly after a moment. "I'll have to put the last of our savings into it as well, including what I earned today."

Amelia didn't look up, but she felt her insides tying into a knot on hearing this. She had hoped she had made enough of a profit to avoid this, but…the truth was she wasn't even sure if she had made the cost of the items she sold. As for the fiddler, he looked down to the wagon…filled with shards. There was one jug missing a few pieces and a handle. He walked over to it, reached down inside, pulled it out, and hefted it in his hand for a moment.

Then, suddenly, his anger swelled and he smashed it against the ground.

"_All _you had to do was just sit there and sell them! How did you manage this?" He burst out, not able to keep from shouting.

"It wasn't my fault!" Amelia finally spoke up, looking up to him. "I did what you told me! I set up my wares and I sold them! Then a mad horse came by and…and it trampled them!"

"How did it manage to trample them when you were sitting at the side of the street?" The man retorted. "It would have had to run through all the stalls and other vendors to get to you!"

The former princess hesitated. For a moment…she didn't want to tell him, out of no other reason than admitting her own foolishness. However, she finally choked it out. "I set up in the center street! Lots of people had their stalls there!"

"Stalls! Not people vending on the ground!" He shot back. "Why didn't you sit with everyone else? They do that to avoid things like this!"

The young woman swallowed. "I…I didn't, because…they were…were…"

"What?!" He cut off, advancing a step toward her. "Too ugly? Too dirty? Too old? Too common? Too poor? Too not-nobility? One of a million things you still have some crazy idea that you're above? Well, guess what? Because you wouldn't sit there, both of us are going to _starve_ tonight! I hope your pride was worth sleeping on an empty stomach!"

Amelia didn't know what to say to that. She didn't know what she could say. And so, she simply bowed her head again, once more out of shame.

The man continued to fume for a moment, before he seized another piece of ruined pottery and flung it so hard it crashed into a tree at a distance. However, that act calmed him down a bit. He put his hands on his hips and began to pace a little. While still quite testy, he shook his head and spoke in an angry yet calmer voice.

"Right now…as bad as you think you have it be falling in with me…I assure you I'm feeling _much_ worse by having you. I wish I had just had the courage to say no back there…"

He walked a bit, and then paused. He breathed in and out a few times, but kept his back to Amelia. He threw up his arms helplessly.

"That was the last of our money. We've got _nothing_ to pay for food tonight. And now, I haven't managed to save anything for the payment on the property. I don't know if I'll be able to make it now."

The former princess kept her head bowed, saying nothing. Yet as she listened to the fiddler go on, a part of her brain began to focus more on it that it had before. As she listened to his voice, she began to pick up tones of genuine unease…perhaps even fear inside of it. Even anxiety. That home may have been a filthy hovel to her and not worth even a house for dogs…but she slowly began to realize something. That wasn't just all she had now…it was all _he_ had. That thought made her hesitate a bit longer.

Finally, the man sighed, and raised his hat a bit to rub his hand against his forehead.

"…I'm going to go pay for this now. Just…" He sighed again. "…just go home. I'll be there soon. I'm going to see if there's something else you can do although, for the life of me, I can only think of one remote possibility. Just…leave this stuff to me and go."

With that, he began to put his fiddle up again, putting it in the wheelbarrow as well so that he could take it all together. Amelia continued to stand there silently. Not protesting. Not whining. He almost had to "shoo" her away from the front in order to get to the wheelbarrow. Finally, however, as he got his hands on the handles and began to push it away, she exhaled and turned to go home.

* * *

Now Amelia knew what it truly meant to "go hungry".

It wasn't just the missed meal itself or the compounded weakness. Her body had expected to be fed, and now was getting nothing. It continued to make growling noises and turned over itself, even when she did nothing more than sat on the stool in the shack. Until now, she had miserably choked down whatever food had been given her, barely containing her disgust. Yet as time ticked by, the lasting hunger from previous days, as well as the knowledge that as she stared at that empty cauldron that it would remain empty, made her long for it all the more. Even that barely edible bit of bread and cheese she got when she rode on the wagon began to seem like a strawberry tart at this point, and she gladly would have accepted it. It was small wonder, she realized, that the fiddler had been angry at her for nearly throwing it away.

At this point…in spite of her pride and indignity…she was actually beginning to understand his anger.

Not only that, but she was upset with herself. This job had been something she could do…something she was good at…something that, as much as she hated to admit it, filled her with a sense of pride at actually being "competent" in something that a commoner could do. She never thought she'd feel any satisfaction from being able to do a mundane task a poor person did…but she felt it none the less. And now, even that was gone…gone due to her pride…

Her hands wrapped around her middle as she sat there. The pressure relieved the hunger very slightly. However…she still wished that the fiddler would come back as soon as possible. She wanted to sleep as soon as she could…because sleeping seemed to be the only relief she got from hunger nowadays when food wasn't available.

Not only that…but she found herself wishing that the fiddler could actually come back _with_ a new job. In spite of how demeaning and disgusting this life was, she wanted to show she actually had "value". She wanted to actually produce _something_.

The door clicked, snapping Amelia out of these thoughts. She turned her head up to it in a snap…showing an eagerness she hadn't displayed since arriving. The door slowly opened, revealing the tired and sore looking fiddler. After all, he had walked around a lot more than he intended today. His look was still dark, but no longer angry, as he came in with his fiddle. Once inside, he let the door shut behind him. He cast one look to the former princess, neither angry nor happy, and then moved over to one of the walls and set the fiddle down alongside it.

"…Well?" She asked after a moment.

The man said nothing for a bit longer. After letting the fiddle down, he moved over to a stool and sat in it as well. He fixed her with his gaze afterward, leaning down and propping his arms up on his knees.

"There is one…and only _one_…job left for you." He said quietly. "If you can't do this…" He sighed. "The only thing left for you to do is beg for alms."

In spite of how insulted she had been earlier at the thought of some of the jobs…this thought was one that truly filled Amelia with revulsion. Doing this work was bad enough, but to not be able to work at all…to be forced to just beg for handouts… It was more than insulting and demeaning to a woman like her. It was also total defeat…a "sign" hung over her neck that would prove she was good for nothing. To a lady who had thought of herself as being a goddess among men, there would be no greater dishonor. She realized as much as she hated this…she actually _wanted_ to work.

The fiddler continued. "Over at the castle, King Grizzlebeard has what he terms an 'open kitchen'. He has hired servants, yes, but they're not sufficient for all of the occasions in his halls. He's worked out a system where almost anyone can walk in and work there. They aren't paid, but if they put in a full day's work, they're free to take home as many of the scraps from the table as they want. It's like gleaning, in a sense."

Amelia had to fight not to revert. It wasn't so much the work itself, although that was bad enough…but worse than that was the fact that she'd be in a palace. One in which, in addition to King Grizzlebeard, no doubt there were many nobles…lords and ladies…passing through all the time. Especially in this rich of a community. If any of them were to spot her…

_Don't think that way. He said it was a kitchen. You haven't been in one of those since you were four… Certainly none of them would. Even the king probably never sets foot in there…_

That left another concern, however.

"…Scraps? Can we really live off of that?"

"Better than you think." The fiddler answered. "I don't suppose you've ever given any thought to it, but the banquets that the nobility hold always have more than enough left over when they are done. Enough to feed a great deal of people so long as they are fast enough. And finer than anything we could buy at the market. It might not be the most ideal thing for us, but it's a way to eat well at least once a day. So long as you work hard and do what they tell you to."

Amelia thought for a moment. The thought made her grimace. Eating off of the refuse of other people… That wasn't much better than a beggar as it was. Essentially rooting through their refuse… However, there was one big factor involved in that. There was no refuse around here for her to dig through. All the poor people didn't have the luxury of having "leftovers". It might not have been the most ideal situation in the world…yet the former princess' attitude of complaining and rejecting everything outright had diminished a bit. It was work…and it was a way to bring food. Who knew? At least eating that food would make her feel in a small way like a princess again…

She finally nodded. "Very well. I will do it."

"You need to head out for the castle early tomorrow morning, before the sun is up. You're no good to them if you're not even there to help with breakfast." He stated. "And since it's a walk, you'll have to get there fast. Considering your constitution, you'll probably have to run the whole way."

This was an unfortunate fact, but the woman nodded. "Very well."

"Once you're there, tell the guards you're there to work the kitchen and they'll call out someone who knows you're coming already. They'll take you there. Inside, you do _whatever_ the kitchen master and the scullery master tells you to do and you _do not complain_. They didn't want to take you to begin with when I asked this afternoon, but when they heard of our situation they made an exception."

"Very well."

He looked at her hard afterward. "…I'm serious when I say this is the last job you can do. So take any advice you get from other people. Listen to what you're told to do and do it. Please try to keep this position. We shouldn't have to worry about food anymore if this works out. But if it doesn't…"

He grimaced.

"…Then there will likely be many more nights like tonight."

The former princess inhaled one more time, but nodded. She wasn't sure what this meant, exactly…but she had a good idea as her stomach continued to make noise.

The man exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. "Let's finish up whatever chores we still have, and then get to bed. If we aren't eating, both of us will do better sleeping to be up early tomorrow."

* * *

It wasn't until the night wore on that Amelia realized just what the fiddler meant.

Sleep was normally a good "pain reliever" for hunger. After all, if you were drained from lack of food, you could sleep easier to begin with. However, she couldn't stand the "bed" of straw at the moment, and combined with the hunger…she could barely sleep. As time ticked on and the prickling of the straw, the smell of the shack, and the hardness of everything else wore down on her…sleep became impossible. That meant she had to deal with the pain of hunger longer and longer… It eventually "ebbed" slightly. It seemed her body was used to being fed at certain points and, on realizing it wouldn't be fed, stopped complaining as loudly. But it was still a miserable night.

The desire to avoid the indignity of manual labor slowly began to fade as the night wore on. Even the thought that she would be working for scraps didn't seem so bad. That was because both things that she had once been repelled and disgusted by meant food…the one thing that could relieve some of the misery of her life. The thing she had to go without tonight.

As she continued to lie there, seeing how miserable and how wretched she was, beginning to feel such pity and misery for herself and how she had been treated so unfairly to deserve this harsh lifestyle, and thinking of how much more misery she would be in every single night, an amount of anger swelled in her again…thinking about how she had once lived in luxury, had honor and admiration, and all the fine things life could offer her. It had been less than a week since she had lived like this, but it felt like she had already lived this wretched life for an eternity. How could anyone be forced into this horrid state? She had a hard time thinking of any crime or greater sin than this…to be reduced from such a great lifestyle and status into something that was effectively nothingness…that she had gone from sitting at the head of elegant dining tables to working as a peasant for scraps…

The mixture of hunger and growing anger finally became too much for her. She may have been sentenced to this horrible life and cruel fate…but the fiddler wasn't showing her the slightest bit of sympathy. All he was doing was chastising her, yelling at her, and treating her as if she was nothing. She couldn't stand it. He was supposed to be her husband! He should have known she wasn't cut out for this dirty lifestyle…should have shown more compassion…more understanding. He hadn't said a single kind thing to her since they met…and she was tired of it. She would consent to go to that castle, but she wanted to hear at least a 'thank you' for it…

With that, she opened her eyes, and looked over to the fiddler. The fire embers were dying down into nothing, but there was still just enough glow in the room to see him. She intended to tell him exactly what she thought…

Yet on seeing him…she paused.

She had tossed and turned so much, and been brooding for so long, that she hadn't noticed that he had been making a great deal of noise himself. Even now, he looked like he was struggling to get comfortable, and there was a good chance he wasn't even asleep. She stared at him like this for a moment, wondering why he hadn't gone down yet…but eventually the obviousness hit her rather simply.

Just like her, he was too hungry to sleep easily.

While it may have been a simple observation for most people, it was something that only hit Amelia at this point. It also made her understand something else.

As miserable as she was…as much as she hated the straw poking into her and the hard floor…how she hated touching muck and filth…getting her hands rough and raw…hauling water to and from the river…having her hands bleed from spinning or whipping herself in the face from basket-weaving or sitting in a marketplace next to disgusting and hideous commoners…she realized that none of these things became "easier" from simply being a commoner. Just because you spent your whole life doing them or this was all you ever knew didn't mean it was something that was suited to them. Going hungry was something that hurt no matter who you were. Lugging water was still tiring. Cooking meals still required work and attention. Cleaning was something you still had to put effort into and work at every day.

She hated her fate…but she realized that just because the fiddler hadn't received a better lot in life didn't mean he couldn't hate his own life as well. Or maybe…just maybe…he learned a long time ago that there was no reason to lament his life. After all…what good did it do him? Amelia slowly realized that as well. If she woke him up now, if she demanded thanks and appreciation…what good would that do? It wouldn't change anything. It would just be getting a small measure of relief from a person who was just as miserable as she was right now.

_Just as miserable…_

And then…the real truth hit Amelia.

_The reason he's like this right now…suffering just as much as I am…is because _I _didn't come through with selling the pottery._

That was a sobering thought…so much that it actually made her gasp a bit as the realization hit her. It wasn't just her own livelihood she had ruined today. By not bringing in any money for food, the fiddler now had to go hungry. She realized that for all of his disparaging remarks and anger toward her…he had been counting on her today to bring in money for food. He had been looking forward to his one meal that day…and she let him down.

And as much as she hated to admit it or even think of it…the fiddler had given her far more concern that she had given him. He had made sure to bring food on their trip to the shack…had bought this place for them to live in rather than stay on the street, where he could have easily fed himself rather than held a debt…and, in spite of his back injuries, had done not only his work but had helped her with all of hers… And so far…she had yet to give him anything.

She thought a bit longer as she stared at him.

_ He was right. We _are_ 'partners'. Our livelihood depends on each other._

On realizing this…all desire to create trouble for the fiddler slowly faded away. Instead, she rolled over on her back. She was still very hungry…but she didn't try to sleep or tossed and turned any longer. She only looked at the ceiling silently, thinking for a long time.

Finally, she closed her eyes…and did something she hadn't done in a long time.

"Lord God…please help me to bring home food for both of us tomorrow. And thank you for the opportunity to get food for myself."

After saying that simple prayer, she tried again to sleep. Remarkably, it was a bit easier than before.

* * *

Strangely enough, Amelia was able to get up fairly early the next day. Not on her own, for the fiddler still had to wake her up first, but she rose up readily afterward, whereas before he would have had to keep urging her. Despite the fact that it was still dark out, and she was weakened both from hunger and lack of sleep, she got up readily and cleaned herself up as best as she could. Once she was done, the fiddler moved to the door.

"I'll walk you as far as the city gates. Once inside, it should be safe enough for you to go the rest of the way, but even if you stick to the road it's not safe for a young woman like you to be walking by yourself."

He turned to begin to walk out.

"…Thank you." Amelia half-muttered quietly behind him.

The fiddler paused at that for a few seconds, but then, for a moment, actually gave her a hint of a smile. It was the first time he had done so since they met. He turned and kept walking.

It was so dark out that Amelia thought that it was still the middle of the night. However, by the time they got to the crossroads, the sky was at least turning a bit dark blue on one horizon. She could see the torches lit in front of the city gates already lit, and the earliest risers and workers were already out and moving, heading out to the fields or hunting or whatever work they had to get started with. Yet even that short walk was a bit nerve-wracking to her. There were plenty of dark spaces along the way…and she was so tired at this point that she almost could imagine shapes hiding in them. In spite of that, she made it to the gates fairly rapidly. The fiddler had told her she'd need to move fast, and considering how slow she was from years of being "delicate", it would take some time.

After passing through the main gate, she stuck to the main road. It pretty much ran straight through the city to the country beyond. Even with the town fairly empty, however, and the market out of session, it took her a while to get that far. It was a long walk, and her feet were already throbbing, comfortable shoes or not, by the time she finally got through to the other side. By then, the sky was much brighter and the sun was just beginning to touch the horizon. Yet she had to stop and rest for a moment at the rear gate of the city. Although her feet were still sore when she rose again, the fiddler had said she should be at the gate at sunup…which meant she had to tough through it.

The last stretch of road was long, but also filled with such lovely gardens that it nearly made the former princess pause to marvel at them. Only pain and necessity drove her on…especially since all of this activity was making her hungry once again, and the hunger was making her dizzy and weak. She had to get there in order to work, because it would mean food. Still, it was such beautiful gardening and landscaping… The rich forest and lovely meadow would have been enough of a court for her…but seeing that this was so beautiful as well. It was a hundred times as large and pretty as her own courtyard. It made her wish that she could have lived in such a place…but also realize something she hadn't thought of before.

If it had been her dressed as she was now wandering into her own courtyard at home looking just to work for food, and a princess like her within the castle had seen her, she would have been chased off without pity or mercy. It made her insides feel a bit cold and twisted, and not from hunger.

On reaching the gate, the guards stopped her. A bit nervously and uncertainly, she explained herself. They went back inside, and a few minutes later, a man sweaty, hot, large in the arms and body, and wearing an apron as well as a kerchief to tie back his hair moved into the gate. He fixed her with a stern look.

"Where the devil have you been?" He nearly snapped at her. "First new day working here and you're an hour late? Don't think just because you're not getting paid that I can't easily replace you. There are plenty of other women eager to get in here."

Although Amelia had her pride stung and felt like angrily retorting…her stomach's grumbling kept her from saying anything of the sort. She couldn't afford to let her pride make her lose another meal. Just getting here had left her dizzy. She merely stood silently.

"…Well?" The man retorted. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

She swallowed.

"…I'm sorry. I'll be here on time tomorrow."

"You better be. Now get your ass in here."

Amelia's hands clenched but, in addition to needing this job, she was honestly too weak to protest much. She simply stepped inside.

The castle courtyard was just as lovely and well-tended as the exterior. Luckily, it was still so early that no one had come out yet from any nobility, including the king, for a morning stroll. That was good for her, because it meant no one could recognize her. She caught a glimpse of the front gates and nearly headed there, before she realized where the man was taking her, to the side. She remembered…she was a "commoner" now. She'd never pass through wide gates like that again… Feeling more than a little regret at that, she followed him as he led her around the back.

It took even more walking that wore out the young woman even more before they reached, tucked away in a corner, the servant entrance. Only a single large door instead of two, and walking through it, one would find it led straight to the basement down a series of dimly-lit stone steps. Although it was cool at first, descending only a short way, to where one could see a fiery glow that no doubt had to be torches, lamps, and the kitchen fires themselves, it quickly began to grow hot. Even with ventilation, all of the open fires in the kitchen, to say nothing of the staff, left a lot of heat. At the moment, she could hear the sounds of many workers already rushing about.

On reaching the bottom and turning the corner, she saw that the area opened up into a rather vast kitchen area, and, sure enough, a good twenty people were going about on various tasks. There were a few guards at the doors, only one each, but most of the people looked like commoners. There was a larger, more open, and more ventilated staircase on one side. That must have been where the waiters and maids came in and out. In fact, even as she walked in, one of them, much more finely and "officially" dressed than everyone else came down and called out some orders to the staff. Amelia didn't understand how anyone could hear anything over the racket, but apparently they did and got to work. The place was busy enough…but really wasn't that cramped, even with all of the large kitchen utensils, designated work areas, and all of the clamor. It was due to how big the area was. Amelia had only once ever been in the kitchen in her own palace as a child, but she remembered it wasn't nearly this large. This was practically a hall in and of itself, although the ceiling was much lower.

Where she was seemed to be the scullery area, with a broad table at the rear for the finished dishes to be placed and picked up by the waiters. The actual cooking areas were somewhat partitioned off and toward the back. The heat in here was oppressive, though. Even in winter, it would be fairly overwhelming. However, what further made her weak was the scent of food already cooking. Her stomach growled more than ever, and she could feel her mouth watering. It was a vulgar sensation, but one she couldn't help. The increased desire for food made her feel weaker than ever.

At any rate, the man turned to her. He spoke rather roughly.

"Now, as you may have guessed, I'm the scullery master. You take all of your orders from me or the kitchen master. This job is very simple: do what you're told when you're told and do a decent, fast job. You don't, and you're out. You complain, you're out. Don't think because you're easy on the eyes you'll get it any easier than anyone else in here either. I don't care if you're the Queen of France…if you cause us to backlog, you're out." He pointed to the table at the end. "See that?"

She nodded.

"Speak up when I talk to you unless you don't have a tongue."

Swallowing her pride again, and actually a bit intimidated, she nodded again. "Yes."

"That's where the food goes out on and the empty dishes come back on. Don't you _ever_ let me catch you touching the food that goes out. You do that, you're in the stocks for a day, and _then_ you're out. The plates that come back…you can take all you want off of those, but keep it moving. Get it in your pockets and move on. You _never_ eat while you're in here, or you're out. You get thirty minutes before lunch where you can eat, thirty minutes after lunch, and that's it. The rest of the time you work. Got it?"

"Yes." Amelia answered.

"Then get busy, because you're already behind. First things first: breakfast is nearly out. When the dishes come back, you're going to have to start washing them. But before that, the tub…" He pointed in one direction, and the former princess looked. She soon saw a bathtub-sized basin made out of black stone in the floor nearby, with a polished, overlain interior. "…needs to be full. So," He pointed again, this time to a wall, showing two buckets and a stick to brace them over her back. "We'll start you off on something easy. Get those buckets and that pole, get up to the courtyard, go to the well in the back, fill it up, bring it back, and start filling up that tub. Get going now. Shake a leg."

Without another word, the scullery master immediately turned and walked off, instantly shouting out at another worker and correcting her. Amelia herself paused and blinked. She looked around for a bit, at everyone about her. Most of them were also clearly of the "plain" variety, and looked not only dirty…but smelled a bit when they came close to her. It made her grimace, but the kitchen was such a busy place that she soon found she had to move rapidly to stay away from everything as well and steer clear from getting in people's way. She dodged two workers who went by, and began to inch over toward the buckets. A third one, however, bumped into her slightly. She frowned and looked to her, nearly saying something.

"Hey!"

The voice of the scullery master made her pause, and soon she looked to him, seeing him glaring at her.

"What's the matter with you? I said shake a leg! Stop doddering around! Get these buckets and get moving! You make me tell you one more time and you can get lost!"

The thought of going another day without food made the woman go rigid, and then, forcing herself to move, she quickly rushed over to the buckets.

* * *

Amelia wasn't doing much better today than any other day.

She ran into problems as soon as she got the buckets and the stick. She did it completely wrong, trying to hold two buckets in one hand and the pole in the other. She earned the ire of the scullery master again, who came over to her and barked at her to balance the bucket handles on the grooves on either side and put it on her back to hold it. She balanced it over one shoulder by mistake, however, prompting him to intervene and put it on her himself. After that, she was free to move at last…relatively speaking. She nearly hit two other workers as she made her way very slowly toward the stairwell and started to head up…and soon discovered that going up stairs was hard enough on your own. Having these heavy buckets and the pole balanced over her made things both harder and more awkward. Not only that, but she was so wobbly and off balance that she could barely navigate the narrow corridor. When she finally reached the top, she was dizzy, hungry, and sweating. Yet she just panted and made her way to the well.

It took her a bit to find it, and when she did it took her even longer to fill the buckets. Delicate and weak, Amelia had a hard time simply lowering the bucket and drawing up water. She could barely crank it with her weak arms, and she spilled an entire bucket and most of a second before she got the hang of it enough to dump it into the two large wooden buckets. Even so, it was terribly heavy and awkward. She wasn't used to holding things steady, and so it sloshed around, making everything worse. Panting and tired, she was already feeling a tad sore just from this small action. Yet it was even worse getting the pole back on her body and then starting to lug the water back. At first, she was so unbalanced she knocked over a bucket. It forced her to refill it, but she spilled it again the second time. Not until the third time did she get the idea to position herself under the pole and lift with her legs. After that, however, she still collapsed due to lack of balance.

The fourth time, using all the strength she could muster, straining, breathing hard, and struggling with the pole and wood digging into her palms and back, she slowly made her way back to the stairs. She was panting again as she went down. Trying to keep her balance was making her muscles burn, and the weight of the buckets was enough to almost make her collapse. One wrong move and she knew she'd fall all the way down the stairs. The work was draining her further, and she felt hot and dizzy from the undertaking. But somehow, she stumbled down to the bottom step, and then moved over stiffly and slowly to the tub. Once there, she made sure to slowly set herself down, then took up the buckets, one after another, and dumped them inside…although she still spilled some on the floor for both, not used to it.

After finishing dumping the second bucket, she looked inside to see how she had done…and was horrified to see that the tub barely had managed to cover the bottom. She felt genuine fear on realizing how long this would take…how many trips she would have to make when her hair was already soaked with sweat and her face paling. It nearly froze her in place. However, things got worse when the scullery master walked over to her and looked in the tub, at the puddles on the floor from her splashing, and finally back to her.

"What is this?" He asked. His temper flared after that. "What the devil is this?! _Three quarters of an hour! _That's how long it took you to put two buckets of water in the tub! Get your ass out of here and get this tub filled! Come on!"

Spurred on by the angry words, Amelia nearly stumbled over herself as she put the buckets and pole back on herself and got to work again.

Some time later, the tub still had a long way to go. She was rather tired at this point. Sweat was soaking into her clothing, especially since the kitchen was getting hotter and hotter as the food neared preparation. She looked at the other workers from time to time, but she still couldn't stand how dirty-looking and rough they appeared. Try as she might, she just couldn't look at them. She wasn't used to being immersed with such filthy people, and she had to turn away continuously until she just kept her eyes to the floor. As a result, she didn't notice many people and bumped into them more than once, spilling water a bit sometimes, and others just wobbling. Even when people began to look to her with concern, and even asked how she was doing or even if she was feeling alright, she ignored them each time and kept going.

At first, the former princess was able to speed up. She did the second bucketload in thirty minutes, which was still painfully slow, and the third in twenty, at which point she was practically out of breath and wobbling. Yet even then, the scullery master told her to speed up. Following that, however, he was called to help out a problem in the kitchen. Evidently, it was fairly serious, because she hadn't seen him since. A good thing too, because the fourth trip took her a good thirty minutes again. She was too weak at that point.

Unfortunately, the fifth trip was the worst. When she came back, breakfast had been set out, in full view of her. She hadn't seen such exquisite looking food in what seemed like forever. Even the elegant breakfasts she had back at home weren't as rich or fine, and felt herself craving it badly. Even just having some of the bread would have been enough for her. She was so tempted she even approached it once or twice, but wouldn't get any closer. She didn't dare. It wasn't worth losing this job. Mercifully, it was taken away by the time she finished putting the buckets in the tub, and the scullery master wasn't back yet, but even with the food gone she was feeling weaker than ever.

The work didn't stop because the food was gone, either. It only continued to go about as the trash was thrown out and everyone got about cleaning and straightening everything up to prepare for the next load. As for Amelia, her tub was needed more than ever. A few people came up to try and get started, but saw that the tub was only partially full. They tried to ask her about it, but she only picked up her things and began to head upstairs to fill it again. By now, she was groaning with each step she took, but she kept working.

After that, she lost track of how many more trips she made, but eventually people started to wash. They told her that the basin needed more, however, and told her to hurry and keep working while everyone started getting to work scrubbing up the place for dinner. And so, Amelia kept working. Sweating, tired, and moving slower all the time, the world slipped into a daze. She didn't react or even try to get out of the way when people ran into her and jostled her, even if they nearly knocked her off balance. She only continued to work. Although time continued to pass, the break time never seemed to arrive. Neither did the scraps from breakfast, and she felt herself only growing hungrier and more worn out as she headed upstairs yet again.

She was barely able to hold herself steady as she came down with the next load, and stumbled as she went into the room. As she walked into the chamber, sagging and panting, covered with sweat, looking pale, and trembling from weakness, she looked up a bit…and gasped slightly at what she saw.

Several of the plates had come back…and all were clear already. The other workers had already picked them clean. For those not working for money, they moved fast…quickly snatching up whatever was to be found off of the plates.

Amelia stared at that a moment, her eyes filling with fear and a hollow look. She knew she wasn't as strong or robust as these other women. She wasn't as fast either. And she had been out of the room when who knew how much food had already come back. What if she couldn't even get any for herself? What if she managed to do this job only to be too weak to get any of the scraps? What would she say to the fiddler when she got back? And how long could she go on like that…?

It was too much for the former princess. Letting out a light groan, her eyes closed…and her body collapsed to the ground as she fainted.

The impact was hard…but, luckily for Amelia, she had put her arms in front of her as a result of the heavy water buckets falling down around her. She landed them, protecting most of her head…but still hitting so hard she banged her forehead. After that, reality slipped away for a moment, becoming just darkness. She had never passed out before, and it was like some heavy, oppressive thickness just came over her and seemed to sever her consciousness from everything. She was aware of making an impact…of the pole leaving her shoulders, going to her back, and spilling the buckets everywhere. She could feel some of the cold water soaking into her dress.

Yet she was also aware of another sound.

No less than a half dozen individuals dropping their own tasks, and a feeling of being surrounded by them as hands reached down and grabbed her.

Distant voices reached her ears.

"I knew that would happen. She's been looking white as a sheet for a while…"

"Not a very strong creature, is she? A bit too weak and feeble for this…"

"Oh, be quiet! She needs work like the rest of us! Poor thing…"

"Get her up…get her over at the side of the hearth for a moment…"

Soon, Amelia, mostly without her help, only weakly offering assistance, found herself being gently pulled up. Hands reached out and supported her. The pole and buckets were removed, finally giving her relief from the "groove" that had seemed to press into her skin. As her consciousness slowly began to return, she realized the same people she shunned had to be touching her all over to help her up, but she wasn't strong enough to fight back, move herself, or even protest. Soon she found her body begin guided along. A faint voice rang out in the back, angry and snappy, before one of the voices returned.

"Oh, hush up, Brian!" It said angrily. "You're the one who cracked the whip on her so hard that she fell!" Another pause, filled with more angry voices. "Well just look at her! Clearly she still needs to get used to this work! Give her at least a few days to get used to it! She may have been sick and lost her strength for all you know!"

"It makes sense, as pale as she is…"

"Exactly. You never thought about that when you called her 'not a very strong creature', did you?"

If the person muttered in retort, she didn't hear. She was led over, as best as she could tell in her returning senses (for everything seemed unreal even when they did return), to one of the "nooks" at the side of the room where they stored various foods, tools, and other goods. A barrel was pulled out, and she was set on top of it. By now, she was able to start looking up again, but her senses were swimming and everything seemed unreal and dreamlike. A hand came out and touched her forehead.

"You're so warm…no wonder you couldn't take it anymore…" One of the staff said. "Just sit here and catch your breath for a few minutes."

In spite of her situation, Amelia, on feeling the hand on her brow, began to vaguely shake it, trying to remove the dirty touch…

However, whoever did it not only removed it at that, but misinterpreted to the gesture.

"Oh, don't worry about Brian. Got promoted to scullery master just two years ago. He was just another worker before that, and now he lords it over us like he's a noble. He's full of piss and wind."

There was a clatter from nearby. "That tub's only about half full…I'll handle it from here. I don't think she'll be back on her feet in time to do it herself. She could use the rest."

"You do that." The voice returned, and then came back to her. "Just sit here until you're fully back with us, then you can start up again, alright? I know what it's like for new women. They usually walk in here after several days without food, and Brian just expects them to immediately be able to pull their weight like a veteran, and on an empty stomach besides. It's not a problem. We'll cover for you. Just make sure you can stand and walk when you come back to work." She looked up again afterward. "Katy, could you bring this young woman a cup of water?"

With that, the crowd left her side. Amelia watched them go vaguely for a moment, before bowing her head. In spite of the kindness she had received, she groaned on the inside. People came in here and started work who hadn't eaten for days? What about her? She had only gone a single day without food…and honestly couldn't tell how she'd even be able to walk if she went two days without it. Yet another thing she was ill-suited to. It made her miserable on the inside. The only job left to her, and she was too weak for it. How could she possibly move on from this? Or live like this? Spending every day of her life toiling at something she was completely ill-suited for? What if she kept this up every day…always being yelled at, bumped into, and too weak to do anything right? For the rest of her life…

As she nearly choked up again, a figure came to her side.

"Here, my l…" It paused, then corrected itself. "Amelia."

The former princess, in spite of her exhaustion and her muddled thoughts, caught that quite distinctly. Her eyes widened a bit.

_That voice…and how does she know my name?_

She turned and looked to her side, finding a young woman, almost a girl, squatted next to her holding her a wooden cup of water.

Her chamber maid from back in the castle.

Amelia went wide-eyed, her mouth slackening. The maid, on the other hand, continued to squat there expressionlessly, holding out the cup to her. "Here, drink this. It's cold." She said.

The former princess didn't move. "It's…it's you…"

The maid looked down for a moment, and then back up to her. "…Please drink it. I know you're resting, but you can't dawdle in here. Neither can I."

Amelia, however, forgot about that. "What…what are you doing here? Why aren't you back in my father's kingdom?"

"I couldn't work at the castle any longer." She stated dully. "You'd dock my pay if I made a mistake, and when I'd be weak the next day for it, you'd only chastise me more harshly. You also struck me when you were angry. It became too much. I heard a report from one of the other maids that the lord of this country, King Grizzlebeard, was a generous and kind master. I moved into the open kitchen and I've done well. The kitchen master says that I'll likely get the position of one of the older maids when she is released from service in a month, and then I'll collect a salary again."

Amelia stared on at her. To be honest…she had been so unconcerned with her own servants that she had never noticed her even being gone. She didn't even know her name was Katy. The only time she gave her any thought, she realized, was when she messed up or was too slow. Then she hit her or…

_Docked her pay…_

At once, probably because it was such an important turning point in her life, Amelia remembered what she had said that day before everything had happened…

_"But…but, my lady…I need my daily pay just to feed myself… I'll have to starve for three-"_

_ Three days. She was going to say _three_ days._

Amelia was so weak after only a few days of having only one meal a day, and then barely able to work when she went without food for one day. But when she docked this young woman's pay…she had sentenced her to _three whole days_ without food.

She remembered more than that…how she had been angry as she worked slower following that…

Where before Amelia had only felt a few small pangs of guilt inside her before now…now she was growing well acquainted with it. She had never stopped to think for a moment, always being well fed herself and having more than enough, what it meant to go without food…what the sensation of true hunger really was. Not until now did she realize what evil she had done to this young woman.

At that, her jaw clamped shut. She turned her head away, looked down, and closed her eyes. Katy blinked, but continued to stare at her. She said nothing in reply for a while.

"Go on." Amelia finally said quietly.

The maid blinked again. "…I don't understand."

"Get on with it." She nearly spat. "Have your revenge. I deserve it. Spit in my face. Slap me. Mock me. I know you want to. Here I am…your former mistress. A cruel and heartless one. Let me have what's coming to me. Compound my misery. Make things even worse for this miserable hand fate has dealt me."

Amelia heard only silence for a few moments.

When she did hear something, it wasn't what she expected.

The click of the wooden cup being set in front of her.

"…There's the water whenever you want it. You can use that cup later. I need to return to work."

At once, the former princess' eyes opened again in more surprise, her harshness and bitterness vanishing. She looked to Katy, but the maid was already trying to rise and looking away from her.

"Wait."

The maid paused, and looked back to her.

"…You aren't going to say anything to me? Aren't you angry?"

Katy shrugged. "Perhaps a little, but it doesn't do me any good or you any good. You were crueler than most I've encountered…but nobles care little for us. There are thousands of us and only a fistful of them. We can always be replaced if we don't perform as they wish. It serves no purpose to waste time being angry about past things. Besides," She looked her over. "You're clearly not a princess anymore. I don't know how you got into this state, but now you're one of us and you're working like one of us. That means you're under the same rule that the scullery master or any other master doesn't tell you: we all look out for each other. No one else will if we don't. Nobles have guards and servants and butlers and maids and money and power. We have nothing…nothing except each other. If we don't help each other when we fall down, bring each other water when we're thirsty, and bear each other's loads…then we truly have nothing."

The maid nearly turned to go, leaving Amelia staring dumbly after her…but then she paused again. She turned back to the former princess and stared at her for a moment. In the end, she closed her eyes and exhaled, and then bowed down next to her as she reached into her own apron.

Amelia nearly gasped when she saw her pull out almost a completely intact biscuit and some bacon from breakfast, split it in half, and put it in her lap.

"You'll never make it through the day if you don't eat something during the break." She stated quietly, putting the rest of the food back in her pockets and rising again.

The former princess was left completely speechless. As she watched Katy walk back to work, she looked down at herself again. Seated on a small barrel, with a cup of water in front of her and half a biscuit and a couple strips of bacon on her lap. A week ago she would have been insulted at this offering, smacked it aside, and fumed in indignity at such meager things.

Right now…it felt as if an angel of God had given her gifts from Heaven.

She had been rich and powerful for her whole life until a mere week ago. She always had more than enough, to give both to those who worked for her and served her as well as those who were less fortunate. Yet she always thought she "deserved" everything she had and those around her deserved nothing. She thought her beauty made her a goddess to be worshipped while everyone was a filthy cur to flee before her. And yet now…the very maid she had mistreated and was so wretched to was giving her what little she had out of nothing more than mercy, pity, and kindness.

It was enough to bring tears to Amelia's eyes again…but, for once, it wasn't about her wretched fate. It was purely an act of regret.

_After everything I did…she's still looking on me with compassion?_

She looked around at the people in the kitchen…and, for the first time, was really "seeing" them. Not for how ugly or poorly dressed they were. She was seeing a younger hand helping an older one with a stack of dishes too big for her. She saw a fresh plate of scraps be brought in, and one of the biggest and strongest ladies passing out even portions to the help that crowded around rather than take it all for herself. She saw the more experienced staff taking over when one of the frailer ones was getting too tired and slow, moving her to an easier task. Everyone helped each other. Everyone looked out for each other.

Finally, she realized it. These people did indeed have nothing. No assets. No wealth. No property. Not even lovely features like Amelia did. So what did they do? They became each other's "assets". Each other's "relief" and "comfort". What joys they had came from one another…just as unwarranted misery could come from one another. Because no one was there to take their part, they took each other's parts.

At last, it was all becoming clear to the former princess. The commoners didn't have money or power to get them by. They had no comforts or pleasures to turn to. This was what they had instead…each other. They put their welfare entirely in the hands of their companions. If they lessened their load and eased their burdens, the only thing they had to do in return was lessen the load and ease the burden of someone else. They either made each other happy, or made each other miserable through yelling or insults or everyone "caring only for themselves".

_And I could have done the same…_ She thought. _I could have brought happiness and joy into the lives of those who worked for me. I could have sympathized with their hunger and cold. I could have made them merrier and gave them reason to continue, knowing that I was looking out for them in times of trouble. But no…I gave them fear and pain. I thought only of myself. I employed them…but I never really gave them anything. Certainly not even the pay worth the trouble it took to care for me… I always, always, _always_ put myself before everyone else… What if I had a cruel mistress now…as cruel as I was? My life is already so wretched and horrible…and she would only make it worse…_

She swallowed.

_If I could be a princess again just for an hour…the only thing I would do right now is give them ease for their pain. Just giving them a little higher wage…a share of food from the table…and I could have made their lives bright for just one day… Now it's too late. Now I can't help myself, let alone anyone or anything else…_

She thought about that for a moment, sitting there, letting her tears fall again.

Yet it only lasted a moment, before they dried.

_Or maybe I can._

For the second time since Amelia had changed to her new life, she felt a stronger feeling in her…one of resolve. Before it had been just to get a job for herself and provide for herself and her husband…but it was stronger than that now. She may have had nothing…not so much as a thaler to her name…but she knew now she didn't need it. These people had nothing and they had filled her with hope and lifted her spirits more than any book of poetry or piece of jewelry had ever done. She could do the same.

With a strength Amelia didn't know she possessed, she reached out and took the water. She didn't sip it daintily, but drank it all in one gulp, letting the cold water rush over her face to cool her further, and then rose up from where she sat and set the cup on the shelf of the nook. She quickly put the first bit of scraps into her pockets and then walked back into the hot, sweltering kitchen…intent on getting her pails back or, barring that, finding a new task to busy herself with.

* * *

Later that evening…hot, sweaty, tired, dizzy, and sore over every inch of her body with her hands rubbed raw, Amelia proceeded to empty her contents on the table. Scraps of bread and meat, including a near entire piece of pheasant, a couple of fruits, various halves of bread covered with various jellies and butter, stew soaked into older pieces of bread, and, to top it all off, even a small damaged cask of some leftover ale.

The spread was set out on Amelia's apron in front of the fire at the shack. She sat in front of it and looked to the fiddler, who surveyed what she had gotten. There was little question about it: this was easily a much larger and finer meal than anything they had eaten since they had met. He looked over it for a bit longer, rubbing his stubble, and thinking it over.

"In the future, you'll want to mostly get bread and meat and whatever vegetables you can find. We can make that into a stew or mush. That said…"

He raised his hand and let it fall, then looked up to her…for once not looking angry, upset, or tired.

"You did well."

Amelia, in spite of how demeaning this task was and the fact that it was praise from a commoner, nevertheless felt herself smile as some pride was enkindled in her. She wasn't useless. She had provided for them.

"You didn't have any trouble at all?"

"I collapsed once in the morning…and I felt faint this afternoon once or twice…and it took some getting used to…and the scullery master shouted at me a lot this morning…but no, it was alright. The other workers say I'm learning fast and getting quicker in my tasks."

The fiddler thought about this a moment, but then nodded. "I'm glad to hear it. I didn't honestly expect you to get right into it, but this seems to be something you can 'get the hang of' and work decent at enough until you do."

He leaned back on his stool and gestured forward. "You earned it…you get the first choice."

The former princess actually blinked at that. She looked down to the food. In truth, she still had a good appetite and even a bit of hunger. And this was the first time the fiddler had given her any special privilege. This time, however, she had actually earned it too. This was, by rights, all hers…

She paused a bit longer.

"I was able to eat something twice today…you choose first." She finally stated.

The fiddler paused, and raised an eyebrow. Although he was definitely a reserved and taciturn man, this had clearly surprised him. After a moment, however, he looked back down, and reached over to take some buttered bread. On bringing it up he began to eat it. After only the first bite, while still swallowing, he gave a nod.

"Very good. Better than anything I could ever bake even if it's a day old."

He took up another piece with jam. After a moment, Amelia reached down and grabbed some of the meat and began to eat it. The two continued like that for a while, both eating what Amelia had managed to bring home. They were silent, much as they usually had been whenever they weren't arguing or exchanging information about chores. Time slowly passed as they ate.

"…What's your name?"

The fiddler paused, looking up to Amelia. "Pardon?"

She looked up to him in response, stopping her own meal. "Your name. I never learned your name. We've been together for a while now and I realize I've never asked it."

The fiddler stared back. "…Were never interested in it, you mean."

Amelia paused a moment, but then exhaled and nodded. "But I am now." She answered.

The poor man was silent for a few moments. "…Timothy." He finally stated. "My friends call me Tim or even Tom, although that's for a 'Thomas'."

"…Amelia." She answered.

The man smiled, ever so slightly, once again, and went back to eating.

Amelia turned back to her food. She ate a few more bites, before pausing again. She looked back up to him.

"…How was your day? Did you make a good amount of money?"

Tim stopped in his eating again. He held a moment, then looked up to her. Slowly, he gave her a nod.

"Good enough. It will take a while to make up what was lost, but…a few more days like this one and we should be alright for this month."

Amelia nodded back. "Did you get around easily enough?" She asked, a bit hesitantly. "With your back, that is."

Tim paused a bit longer, and then nodded. "It gave me some trouble early on, but it got better. It's recovering. How's your back?"

"It's fine. Sore…but I'll be alright. Did you see anyone you knew today?"

"As a matter of fact, I did…"

* * *

And so the next two months passed.

Every day was more or less the same, except Saturdays in which there was twice as much work so Sunday could be off. Every morning she'd get up early. The fiddler would walk her to the crossroads, they'd part, and she'd go to the castle. She would work all day, collect scraps when she could, and then bring them home to Tim where they'd have the evening meal together. It was rough for the first couple weeks. However, slowly, her muscles tightened and strengthened. Her stamina grew. Her delicate hands became rough, but also strong. And every day she would bring home food for them both to live off of. Because of that, Tim was able to make money of his own and keep them in the house.

She didn't receive much down time at home. As the weeks went on, she got better at cleaning and washing. Carpentry was still a bit above her, but she would help Tim out when he needed to make the occasional repair. Money was tight, naturally…but they got by, and every day Amelia was more of a help and less of a hindrance as she slowly adjusted fully into the role of a commoner.

At the castle, she was dutiful and hard working. Although she was weaker than the other staff even after two months, she was holding her own and still had lots of energy and enthusiasm. And always she would be the first to offer her service when she had down time. She would help those under heavy loads, take over washing and scrubbing, and forced herself on time and again. New girls occasionally came, and when she would get a large helping of scraps based on her experience or proximity to where the plates were, she would share with those who had none. She didn't "idly chatter", much…but during the breaks she would go to Katy and ask her how her day was and how she was getting by. It wasn't much…but Amelia now knew what it meant just to have someone show you enough concern that you were even alive. Often she would get dizzy or exhausted, but she'd keep pushing herself on until the others made her rest. She didn't want to lay down on the job again, but prove she could keep up with everyone. As such, in spite of her shortcomings, she earned quite the reputation in the kitchen among the staff about being not only a great worker, but one of the more kind-hearted ones.

That came out clear especially one day, when she and three other workers were in a nook, eating a few of their scraps for a mid-day meal. As they went about, it wasn't long before a pair of brave mice came out and actually sniffed the air close to the women. They were rather lean-looking specimens…obviously having not gotten much despite living in the pantry. The cats in the castle were no doubt doing their job.

One of the women frowned at them. "Oh, be off with you, you little furry thieves!" She snapped, kicking out for one of them to try and get them to run. "Don't need you spreadin' your crap all over the floor!"

Amelia, however, had spent a long time looking at them. In spite of her adjustment…she still gained faraway looks on her face frequently…and sometimes looked downcast and sad, or even crying. Yet after a time, she took part of the bread crust she was eating, pulled off a piece, and threw it to the mice. They only hesitated a moment before they took it and began to pull it out.

The first woman frowned at her. "Now why did you do a thing like that? They'll only be back tomorrow now."

Amelia kept staring at them as they continued to pull the morsel of food away.

"I know what it's like to go hungry now." She answered quietly.

The rest of the workers just stared silently at that, and didn't press it farther.

The biggest change, however, likely happened in her relationship with Tim. While she had greeted him with only anger and hate early on, she at least saw him as a companion, even a friend, now. She still hated to admit that she was legally married to him, but he never tried to rub that in her face. Now that she toughed through everything and made an effort to be helpful, not to mention brought food, he was far more agreeable. Both of them did what was in their power to bring each other a small measure of happiness. Tim went about using a few odds and ends of money he saved to go about getting the cloth to stitch proper mattress sheets for Amelia and gathered whatever loose goose feathers he could find to add to the straw to give her a comfortable place to sleep. Amelia herself listened to the cooks and even helped them out occasionally, until she was able to make meals from the scraps that were not only palatable but even tasty. Both of them worked together on clearing the smaller plants away from the walk to give them an easier time, and while Amelia went about keeping his clothing clean to impress people who handed out money for his music, he spent extra time in the woods looking for decent wildflowers to spruce up the home and fill it with a pleasant scent for Amelia.

As it turned out, the two made a "decent team" when they stopped fighting and worked together instead of against one another. And although Amelia was still used to a far better life and still, deep down in her heart of hearts, longed and wished for it…she realized this could be a lot worse. At least she was among people who looked out for her. People who depended on her and, in turn, she could depend on. And she had food in her belly every day, a roof over her head, and a place to sleep that would never be her bed back in the palace…but got softer each day when Tim brought her home more goose feathers to put in with the straw.

Then came the one morning…

Amelia had walked to the castle, the same as always. She didn't feel afraid on the route anymore, and she was able to clear it rather quickly with her increased stamina. At the gate, she was familiar enough now to where the guards on all shifts would let her in. She made straight for the side of the castle for the servant entrance to the kitchen, and then went down the stone stairs as she had done countless times before.

Yet on arriving at the bottom, she saw a new sight as she rounded the corner.

The staff wasn't doing any preliminary work. Instead, they were all gathered together and facing the kitchen master, who stood against the wall and looked them all over. He wasn't saying anything yet, but on seeing the new arrival, he held out a hand and beckoned to her to join the others. She was puzzled by this, but stepped in further and did as she was told.

On reaching Katy, who was standing with the others who were already there, she spoke. "What's going on?"

"They're making an announcement to all of the staff." She answered. "Not just in the kitchen but the entire castle."

The former princess wondered about this, but waited. Although more work was stressful, she had (wisely) learned to appreciate it. More work usually meant a feast was being planned. A feast meant more leftover food than any of them knew what to do with, which meant all of them could get a good two meals out of it instead of just one.

They ended up waiting for another five minutes for all of the rest of the workers and laborers to arrive and gather at the front of the room. Once that was done, the kitchen master called out.

"Everyone, the next three days are going to be extremely busy." He stated. "We still have to prepare the normal meals, but we're going to have to do so at double or even triple time. We'll also be seeing a larger influx of workers in the open kitchen to pull everything off. We'll even be implementing some of the bakeries in town to get it all done due to space limitations. We need to make sure everything is perfectly ready on Sunday and all of you are going to have to put in the extra effort to make it possible. On Sunday, we're going to be producing one of the largest feasts any of us have ever done, and it has to be enough to feed not only everyone that the King has invited but also the staff in the castle once they've eaten their fill."

Several of the staff members, Amelia included, reacted to that, first with a bit of unease, but then with promise. The former princess didn't know what this meant, however. The staff themselves were being invited? She had never heard of the nobility doing such a thing…except at events like…

Katy spoke up. "I beg your pardon, sir…but did you say the staff was invited?"

The man gave a nod. "That's right. King Grizzlebeard is getting married and holding his wedding feast on Sunday. It's open to the staff after the guests have had enough. He is sparing no expense. This should be an incentive to everyone. This may be the only time outside of the Christmas season that you actually get to partake of the food you prepare directly rather than waiting for it to become refuse, so make sure you have not only prepared ample but made it all top quality. You'll also be free to take all that you wish home once the feast has been opened."

This caused a glow on everyone's face. One of the older workers whispered to another. "From an event like this, we might be able to eat like royals for a week!"

It would be a great deal of hard work, but with this "bonus" in mind, everyone was more than willing to go. That was the joy of having wedding feasts and what it meant in this castle.

However, there was one individual who looked less than thrilled.

Amelia merely stared forward, her face somewhat blank, her eyes downcast.

"Alright everyone, get to work." The kitchen master stated. "Like I told you, double time."

The staff broke in all directions. Amelia, however, didn't move. She continued to stand and stare. She thought of what she had just heard…what it meant…

At last, Katy came up to her and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Amelia? We need water."

The former princess shook her head, and looked to her.

"Oh…right, right…I'll get to it right away."

* * *

Although Amelia managed to keep working at a good pace all day long, she lacked the "fire" that everyone else had. True, she worked harder that day than she ever had in her life, as they now had their workload more than doubled. By the time she was done, she was stiffer and sorer than ever. Her back killed her all the way home. Normally, she walked back with the fiddler, but as it was getting later in the year there were fewer and fewer travelers, and so he sometimes went home ahead of her to start getting the house in order. It was fine by her, as it meant less chores when she came back, and she learned by now that this kingdom was safe enough that she could walk home so long as the sun was still up. Nevertheless, she nearly hobbled like she was made of sticks as she came back. Yet she was the same now as she had been earlier that day, thinking endlessly about what she was working so hard to help prepare…

_Wedding feast…_

As she passed the crossroads and walked down the road, she couldn't help but let out a dark chuckle.

_And so my cruel fate slaps me in the face yet again. _She thought to herself. _Not only am I living the life of a poor commoner, but, in the greatest display of irony, a young king who could have given me wealth and luxury more than I'd ever known is marrying another, and here I am…preparing his very wedding feast for him. Such bitter irony only exists in stories…_

She sighed to herself as she kept walking. _…But truly what did I expect? As impossible as it is, I think a small part of me was hoping that this day wouldn't come. He is a young man, handsome, intelligent, and well mannered-_

Thinking those things, however, made Amelia pause in her step. She thought for a moment about what had just run through her head.

In the end, she sighed once again as she kept walking.

_…He _was_ handsome…and intelligent…and well mannered, wasn't he?_ _Easily more handsome than any of those men. He must be intelligent if he can run all of this country and make it so productive. And he had manners even when I insulted him to his face. Not to mention he was far more kind and generous than I was if he had this "open kitchen"._

_ I prided myself on being so smart…and the truth was that I _was_ smart. I knew all of this the day I met him, or at least had a strong suspicion. But…but I refused to think that any man was "worthy" of me…was even _better_ than me. I had to find something to fault him with. And what did I find? A sprig of a beard. Something so inconsequential and meaningless that I feel like a fool for saying that in the first place. He even took the name…and fate chose to mock me by making me a lowly laborer in his service, under the very name I mocked _him_ with…_

She continued to brood over this all the way to the turn to the shack. Why was she so prideful and vain? What good did it do anyone? What good did any of the things she once prided herself on do her now? She had been trying hard to forget her fate and where she had ended up in life for a while now, but this wedding feast reminded her of it all over again. There'd soon be a bride at that castle…a queen…who she'd be working for that could have been her. A reminder every day for the rest of her life of what she gave up. At least she had managed to avoid seeing King Grizzlebeard for two months…but this new lady might go riding or on carriage rides or visit the kitchen…

She felt freshly depressed as she pushed open the door to the house. The fiddler was inside, finishing the washing from last night, and looked up to her as she entered.

"Oh…hey there. You're back late. Did you run into any problems?"

Amelia silently walked in and moved over to the "new" table and began to pull out today's meal from her pockets and put the various food items on it. She thought of giving him the "silent treatment"…but those days had ended a while ago.

"No." She said after a moment, a bit quieter than usual.

Tim blinked at this. He began to finish up what he was doing. "No? What's the matter then? You haven't been like this in a while."

"Nothing…it's nothing…" She answered.

"You're walking a bit stiffly. You look like you overworked yourself today."

"I might have…but so is everyone else. We're preparing a feast. It'll take three days."

"Three days?" The fiddler echoed in some incredulousness as he finished setting down his cleaning brush and moved over to her. "That's bigger than any feast you've done yet."

Amelia paused momentarily, then sighed as she pulled out the last bit of food from her pocket and set it on the table.

"…A wedding feast." She stated.

She immediately regretted saying that. She could do without chastisement at "lamenting her fate". This was insulting to Tim, after all. He knew what that comment meant, and he knew that Amelia wasn't happy with being married to him. There was a time when she wouldn't care one way or another. Then came a time in which she would have said nothing just to keep the peace.

But now…now she just didn't want to make him feel bad.

However, he said none of that.

"…I see." He finally answered. He paused momentarily, and then exhaled and looked away for a moment. He busied himself about looking at something in the room.

Amelia, on her part, kept her head down. She slowly pulled up her stool and, wincing from being so stiff and sore, she sat down. But she ate nothing. She didn't touch the scraps in spite of being hungry.

After a moment, Tim looked up…and said something unexpected.

"You know…we don't have a whole lot, but…I managed to sock away some of what I earn playing…" He turned and looked to her. "It…occurs to me I never gave you anything as far as a 'wedding present'. Perhaps we can set up a 'market day' and have you pick out something you'd like…"

Amelia hesitated on hearing that. She looked up slightly. However, in the end, she lowered her head again.

"We need that money for an emergency." She said after a moment. "If you get hurt like you did last season…we'll be in trouble."

Tim grimaced a bit, but nodded. "That's true." He admitted, sounding a bit regretful to do so. That made Amelia lift her head a bit again.

Was he…trying to do something nice for her?

He paced around a bit, then finally looked up to her again. He noticed she was still rather rigid. After looking a moment, he made a gesture. "…Turn your stool to one side. Face the fire and put your back alongside the table."

She blinked, and looked up to him. "Why?"

"Just trust me."

The woman paused, but then did as she was told. As that happened, the man walked behind her, pulled out his stool, and set it next to her. It made her a bit nervous, to be honest. She had never sat alongside him at the table. However, he soon sat down, and put his hands down on her lower back. She felt him start to push.

"What are-"

"Just relax. This is what the apothecary did for me when my back grew unbearable."

Feeling the force, Amelia was skeptical for a moment…until she began to feel Tim work his hands into her back, "kneading" the muscles underneath and working them with his fingers. Feeling her stiff and sore back get manipulated like that felt more than good…it felt wonderful. Amelia had never gotten a "massage" before, but now that she was experiencing her first, it immediately began to make her pain and soreness ease. As Tim continued to work, some of her cares began to fade away, and she lowered her head and exhaled. For the first time since she had arrived at the shack, she began to feel relief and comfort at something.

Tim silently worked for a while. After a time, he spoke again, but didn't stop massaging. Instead, he moved up to the rest of her back, easing her stiff muscles with each manipulation.

"Amelia…" He began, using her name again and making her look up a bit. He sighed. "I'm not a fool. I know there are many men you would have rather ended up with besides me. I know that you can't look at me without wishing that you had married King Grizzlebeard or even the lowliest noble you ever met who sought your hand."

"That's not-" Amelia found herself protesting…a bit to her own surprise.

"Let me finish." Tim cut off…gently, not forcefully. He continued to massage her as he said that. "I know that no matter if we have a streak of good fortune for the rest of our lives, we'll never have a life even half as good as yours was. I'm no prince and this is no palace. We'll always have to work. But…"

He paused momentarily, exhaling a bit himself.

"…Listen, I know I gave you a hard time when you got here, but I didn't have a choice. That's how we live when you're not rich. And to be honest…I thought it would never work. I thought you'd just whine and complain and expect other people to do things for you like you had until now. But I was wrong. You've really come through for both of us. I, for one, am better off now with you here than I was alone. And that makes me feel a bit bad…because I'm supposed to be making things better for you, not the other way around. And…and I'm sorry that things had to end up for you that way."

Amelia's mouth loosened a bit on hearing that from the fiddler. The day she arrived, she had been waiting for him to apologize for reducing her to this state. To feeling pity for her and her poor circumstances. And yet…now that he finally was…she found she only felt bad that he had to feel unwell for saying these things. She nearly told him to stop.

"You really are a nice young woman." He went on. "You were rough at first, but…but now you're no less than any of the other women in town or anywhere else. You've really changed. And…" He swallowed. "…And you're the most lovely woman I've ever seen in my life. I don't know if you'll just call this 'salt in an open wound'…but I have to be honest. I'm glad I met you. You've really made me happy. I just wish I could make you happy too…but I know I can't. I can't be a rich king or a noble prince. I can't even make sure that all you ever have to do is stay at home. I wish I could promise you something in this world, but I can't do that either…except for one thing."

He took in a deep breath.

"We never had a chance to say this back at the castle, so I'll say it now. I promise…I'll always be there for you. I'll always take care of you no matter what happens to you. I'll make sure you never go anywhere dark where I'm not at your side. If you're sick, I'll stay with you no matter what happens or how bad it gets. Bad back or no bad back…when you get old I'll be at your side helping you up stairs and through doors and carrying your load. And until that day I'll always be your partner in everything. If you'll let me…" He swallowed again. "…if you're willing to hear it from a man like me…I'll tell you every morning how much I love you and how much I'm glad you're a part of my life. And I swear to God I'll love you forever until the day I die and beyond."

Amelia would have been insulted by this had it been not too long ago…even would have accused him of mocking her…talking of her in this way. However, many things had changed. She had accepted more of her fate even if she regretted it. She had begun to fully adjust to her new lifestyle. Most of all, however…she no longer judged people on things such as appearance, wealth, and nobility. The kindest people she knew and those she depended on had none of those things, and she still admired them far more than those who were rich and powerful. What more, as she listened to this, and looked around…something else had come to mind.

As much as she hated where she had ended up…with acceptance came the realization that things could honestly have been far worse. Tim, she realized, cared for her. And in spite of his appearance, he didn't treat her like a slave. He had threatened that one time indirectly…but he had never struck her. Now that she was a commoner, he could do whatever he wanted to her…but he had worked with her until she learned common tasks and, as far as he was able and practical, had gone out of his way to make her more comfortable. To be honest, he had been justified in a lot of what he had said. How else was he supposed to react when she refused to even set foot in the best house he could give her, after all? He had actually _gotten_ a place to live in for _her_. She knew now, at this point in her life, she had very few "choices" available to her.

At the bare minimum…she had ended up with a kind and gentle man. And, to be perfectly honest, she didn't think any of those nobles in that room would have ever said anything so sweet to her. All of them were getting something out of it…a pretty face…a bit of land…a dowry… Tim had gotten nothing but her, and she had offered him nothing at the start but more hardship. Unlike the others…he genuinely loved her for who she was, in spite of how wretched and cruel she had been.

On realizing that…she began to think that perhaps she wasn't _quite_ as unlucky as she thought she was.

She was silent for a bit longer, before she finally reacted. Suddenly, she turned around to Tim. It was a slow gesture, but it was enough to get him to stop and have his hands fall. For a moment, she faced him, and the two merely stared at each other.

Then, she reached out and slowly put her arms around him before drawing her head up and kissing him.

Tim looked genuinely surprised for a moment…but even he rarely showed much surprise. After a time, when she held, he extended his own arms and put them around her as well.

It couldn't have been more than fifteen or twenty seconds, and then they parted lips. However, Amelia rested her head on his shoulder while Tim rested his on her own. After all…they may have been married, but technically they were only now moving onto this "step" of the relationship. It wasn't until now that Amelia not only began to think of Tim as more than just some man she'd spend the rest of her life with, rather like a cellmate in a dungeon, but the person she was married to…her husband. For the first time, thinking of waking up next to Tim for the rest of her life…seemed like a good thing.

But since it was just "a start", they only held for now. And when they finally broke, they went about eating their meal and talking as they always did.

In spite of how downcast she was that day, Amelia managed a small smile the entire time.

* * *

The two remaining days slowly passed.

The work was harder than ever. It left Amelia as well as almost everyone else tired and drained. Thankfully, the king, seeming to realize that the staff was running ragged, even with extra help and ovens, and only commissioned lighter, simpler meals. He really was a kind person, it seemed…because he still ordered a heavy amount of the simpler meals so that the staff could continue to eat their fill regardless, although the scraps were mostly raw ingredients now.

The opportunity actually gave Amelia the chance to practice her cooking at home. And she was getting better, taking her "lessons" to heart. The fiddler complimented her on her work, saying she probably cooked better than him now. Not only that, but Tim would play for her when he came home on his fiddle. She had forgotten how beautiful the music was…it whisked her away to the time when she was a princess, and she enjoyed just sitting there and daydreaming to the sound of his playing. When she looked to his face…she realized for the first time she had never really stared at him long enough to notice it. She had always turned away or kept her head down. But the truth was…Tim was a very, very handsome man. Underneath his rough beard, and concealing hat and coat, she realized he was actually more handsome than almost every noble she had ever seen before. When he finished washing himself for a meal, she actually found herself beginning to stare at him a bit longer.

"…You should shave." She said at one point. "I think you'd look much younger and you'd bring out how handsome you are."

Tim looked up to her at that, and smiled. "…I'm glad to know you think I'm handsome after all. But the beard stays. Comes in handy around winter. How about I try to trim it more, though?"

Remarkably, Amelia found herself smiling a bit more and chuckling. "It's a deal."

In spite of all of the toil and drudgery, and their near-poverty status, Amelia realized that there may actually be times in her life where, one day, she'd be happy even owning nothing. There were things in this "life" that she had never considered before that could be sources of happiness. And she still had co-workers…friends, even…who would be there for her. And so would Tim. After that initial hug and kiss, she actually found herself hugging and kissing him every time they parted in the morning, and every time they came back together at night. It felt awkward only the first time. Now…it felt both natural and right…as well as something Amelia wanted to do.

But for all her ability to find new happiness in her rough life, the former princess couldn't get the wedding out of her head. She couldn't stop thinking of King Grizzlebeard. She couldn't stop thinking about how he'd soon be married, and how from that day on, if she ever saw the queen, she wouldn't help but be able to see her own face over hers. She tried her hardest to put it out of her mind. Whenever any rumor of the new queen came out, she quickly went about her chores and business, trying not to think about it or even drown out the words over the sounds of her work. And yet, she couldn't stop…

After the last day, she limped home, and once again Tim eased her pain by massaging her back. As he went on, she spoke.

"We did so well this week that they're allowing immediately family to come as well. I'll get all I can from the feast, and then I'll make sure you get in. With any luck, we'll eat well for an entire week…maybe two."

"Sunday is tomorrow." Tim answered. "You have no work to do. Why not enjoy yourself for a bit at the wedding feast? So long as you're allowed to come, we can dance and have a drink or two of the wine."

Amelia readily shook her head. "No…never." She immediately answered. "I've lost a lot of my pride…but that hall will be filled with nobles. I don't want them to see me like this. Some will recognize me…and I'll be a public spectacle for them and for the king. I'll take whatever I can get from the table and then be gone."

Tim was silent for a moment, but nodded. "Alright. We'll head to church first. I'll see if I can't make some more money at the front of the castle with a few songs while you head in. Once you come out, I'll come in, fill up as well, and then we'll head home."

"It's Sunday, and we have enough money for this month's payment…"

"I want to save some more."

"We have savings too…"

"I want to give you something." Tim answered, more firmly. "And I won't be swayed this time. Even if it's only a goose-down pillow, I'm getting you a gift."

The sentiment put thoughts of King Grizzlebeard from Amelia's mind, and, briefly, she was able to smile again.

* * *

The next morning came. Neither Tim nor Amelia owned anything nice to wear for the wedding feast, but they had made sure to clean their clothing as best as they could beforehand. Tim was even able to get out most of the stains that the former princess had accumulated. After that, they both went to church first. At around ten in the morning, they made their way together through the streets and up to the castle. The young woman realized it was the first time they had gone there as a couple…and they held each other's hands as they made their way.

When they arrived at the castle, it looked better than ever…and made Amelia recoil a bit. There were elegant carriages with splendid horses being parked everywhere. Lovely flowers, ribbons, and décor were all over the castle itself and on the road leading up to it. Groves of tame swans had been corralled to move over the castle grounds to give it a more "wedding feel", and everywhere there was happiness, including the commoners who were there. Even the guards were dressed festively and more caring and genial than normal. Seeing all the nobles there…it didn't take long for Amelia to start recognizing them. When she did so, she leaned in closer to Tim and tried to hide her face.

_At least my hair is covered…_

Finally, they reached the gate. Tim stopped here…but Amelia only reluctantly let him go. After that, he looked around for a moment, and then found a stone.

"Alright…I'm going to set up here. You go on inside. Go on and take your time, too." He told her. "Relax. Sit in some of the cushioned chairs. Enjoy the décor."

She sighed. "…I really just want to get the food and get out again."

"Just for a couple hours." He answered her. "We spent all this time coming here on a Sunday, and I need time to earn some money, after all."

The woman grimaced, but then finally nodded. She turned and began to walk through the gate. She was reluctantly to pass through at first, moving in with the other guests…but then she heard Tim start to play a merry wedding tune on his fiddle. That was enough to spur her to go on. At least inside, she didn't have to worry about the "wedding" portion. That much was handled by the chapel.

She had never once approached the main entrance before…and always before then the guards gave her a look to make sure she didn't. Today, they only gave smiles and nods. As she neared it, she couldn't help but feel how this might be the last time she ever got to pass through this gate again like this, where once she could have entered and exited freely. It was larger than the one at her father's castle…and nicer as well. On stepping inside, she saw the interior of the grand palace was even lovelier than the outside, and was done with such festive decorations that it looked warm and inviting. Although it nearly drove a knife into her heart to realize it…she couldn't help but feel a bit happier just being in such a lovely place.

Most of the guests went right inside toward the main ballroom. Amelia, however, lingered a bit first. She didn't want to go in until all the nobles were inside, and then would slip in with the public crowds. Instead, she used the time to move through the castle a bit. She couldn't go too many places. Public affair or no, guards were posted to make sure no one went where they weren't supposed to. Yet she was still able to see a good deal of the castle…and how incredible it was. So large that even the places she was restricted to were bigger than her old home. It was so well made and maintained…and was done up to be so inviting. It was cool now, but she bet it would be warm in the winter too…

She thought of that as she found a cushioned chair. Only a seat cushion…but as she lowered herself into it and sat, she realized just something like this was a relief to her weary body from all of her toil and labor.

_And it could have been mine…_

She couldn't help but frown again at that. She tried to sit here and wait for time to pass…but even here there was no relief. She was restricted to areas close to the grand ballroom, and everyone was laughing and talking so gaily and merrily, no one having a care in the world and all perfectly enjoying themselves. The music was lovely. She could smell both the floral arrangements as well as the delicious food the waiters had to be bringing out, and it made her stomach grumble…but also filled her with more sadness.

_All of these people…from the lowest to the greatest…are enjoying something better than what they're used to. I'm the only one who is getting something worse…_

At last, however, the hour had passed. Nobles stopped arriving. There were only civilians now…and this was her best chance to slip in. She wanted to mingle only with the crowds, fill her pockets, and leave. She knew full well the ballroom would have nobles on one side and the public on the other. The former would probably be moving onto dessert or dancing after having a smoke and a rest to let food settle. They wouldn't even be looking in the direction of what was left of the feast. This was the best time. Hopefully…they'd all be so far that King Grizzlebeard would never spot her. With that in mind, she began to rise up and walk toward the front hall.

When she finally reached the doors for the grand ballroom, she saw they were far larger and more impressive than the ones at her old home. There was no one guarding them either. Apparently, people were free to come in and out as they wished. There were guards posted at either end of the short hall in front of it, but they had their faces out. She had a small measure of privacy here. However…no one else was trying to come in at the moment. Although she could hear a lot of noise from the inside, she didn't want to risk going in yet and alerting others to her presence. Even if she could slip in, she didn't want to chance it.

As she neared it, however, she saw that the door was slightly ajar. Enough to easily see inside, at any rate. At first, she kept her distance from the door and waited, looking around, checking to see if anyone was coming. Nothing happened. The hall remained empty. She frowned a bit. Everyone couldn't already be inside… She decided to wait longer, but looked at the door as she did so.

The music continued to come…as well as the laughter…and the smell…

She grimaced a bit. Her lips moistened.

_Looking inside a bit couldn't hurt…to make sure no one is near the door…_

She finally inhaled a bit, and then walked over to the doors. Once she reached the front of them, she stood at a distance for a moment. At length, she risked stepping forward a bit, enough to lean up to the crack in the doors and look inside.

Even for her, a former princess, it was like something out of a dream. It was twice as lovely as the ballroom in her father's house, and it was filled with such happy people. Although the commoners were in part of it, even from here she could look through to see a large number of nobles, lords, and ladies taking up most of the floor. They were dancing right now, leaving the feast table to one side where the common folk were dwelling. Large windows were open and filling the chamber with light. The chandeliers were crystal but not lit yet, although they sparkled in the light of the sun. She saw wine being poured as opposed to ale, flower arrangements even more lovely than the ones outdoors, and heard the most lovely music coming from a stage in one corner. She never saw something more warm and inviting. About the only individuals she couldn't see were King Grizzlebeard and his new wife. She realized, at that point, that she wasn't sure if they had actually been married yet…if they were holding the feast before or after the wedding. Still, if after, they should have arrived by now…although she noticed dessert had not yet begun. The cake still was at one side, beautifully made and iced, but had not yet been cut.

It was everything she had imagined her own wedding would be one day…and more. She could only stare blankly at it.

_I could be watching my own wedding right here. I could have had all of this…a wonderful life…a beautiful country and castle…and a man who was handsome, kind, and intelligent. Yet fate had to do this to me. It had to reduce me to poverty…scratching and clawing for whatever happiness I could find…make me lose everything I ever had… I was cruel and I was heartless, and so…I earned it. It was God punishing me for my heartlessness, my thoughtlessness…giving me this terrible future and…_

_ And…_

For the first time since leaving the castle, Amelia finally realized the truth.

_ …And no, it didn't._

I _did this._

_ In spite of all of my cruelty and heartlessness…I still could have had it all. I could have had King Grizzlebeard for a husband. I could have still had fine clothes, lovely furnishings, and fine food. I could have gone on being just as heartless and cruel as I was before, and completely full of my own pride and vanity…if I had only put it aside long enough to tell him: "I choose you"._

_ …I have no right to blame fate, God, my father, or anything else for what happened to me. This is what I did to myself. I threw everything away…so that I could insult a man for having an odd looking beard. Because I _had_ to be better than everyone. I had to find a reason that he wasn't "worthy" of me. I've been crying and moaning and sulking for so long…and I've had no reason to. This is what I wanted. This is what I brought on myself. All of it._

The former princess stood there a long time, looking in on the wedding feast. All of that could have been hers…but she said no so that she could mock a decent man and hold her head high above him. Why? Why had she been so thoughtless? So heartless? So cruel? So uncaring?

So prideful and arrogant?

She thought about this a bit longer, but then inhaled. In spite of her unease and fear, she stiffened up.

_If I receive any dishonor…it's because of my own actions. But now…Tim is counting on me. This isn't just about my pride any longer. This is about my sustenance and his welfare as well as mine._

With that in mind, she inhaled deeply…and then pulled the door to one side.

She wasn't sure if she was spotted or not. She didn't focus on the crowd. Neither the other peasants nor the nobles. Instead, she did immediately what she came to do. She took a deep breath, turned, and moved over to the feast table. It seemed to take forever to get there. The music, the laughter, the joy and chatter…she seemed to have to wade through a myriad of it. The feast table seemed to get farther and farther away as she went to it…and she could have swore the room was not only hotter and more oppressive despite being larger and more open, but that everyone was watching her intently…looking at her face…recognizing her…

She felt some relief when she slipped in with the other commoners at the table. She paused and looked over it. There was quite a spread… The cooks had easily outdone themselves. This was better even than any feast she had ever gleaned from, and none of it was "half eaten". She loaded up as fast as she could on the bread, the vegetables, the ham, and even put an entire Cornish game hen in with the rest. It took her some time to make sure to get everything, and normally she couldn't have managed. However, a sack had been slipped underneath her dress to the pockets she had so she could make sure to get as much as possible, and there was more than enough left behind for whoever wanted any. After about six minutes, she had fully loaded up, and then turned to walk away again. She took a few steps from the table and the rest of the commoners, and looked right to the exit door. The path was clear. People might see her walk out again, but she didn't care. Once she was gone it didn't matter. She began to walk in that direction…

But only got about six paces before a shadow fell over her.

"Pardon me, miss."

The woman paused. At once, she paled. A chill went down her spine. She didn't look in the direction of who had spoken to her, or even turn her head…but her peripheral vision could see fine clothing nearby and not that of a peasant. It was a noble.

She swallowed…but dared do no more. Even not facing a noble was disrespectful enough, but she was fighting the urge to not turn her head completely away.

"I was wondering…" The man's voice went on, before letting out a chuckle. "Dear me…this is most unconventional and…I might add…rather odd…but I figure I might as well. I was wondering if you'd like to join me just for one dance. You seem to be here all alone and, I'll be honest, you're one of the prettiest young ladies I've ever seen. Surely you wouldn't mind just one quick dance for some amusement, would you?"

Amelia didn't look up. "…I'm married, my lord." She said before trying to step away.

However, the noble wasn't giving up, and soon moved in front of her. "Well, so am I, but this is a wedding. It's not a romance…just a chance to have fun." He answered her. "Everyone's having a good time. Including the commoners. How about it? Just one dance."

The former princess kept her head down. "…My husband is waiting for me, my lord. I need to return to him."

She tried to move around, but the nobleman made one more attempt to cut her off. "One dance…that's all I ask… You can tell all of the other workers about it… You'll be the talk of the castle…"

Frowning a bit now, Amelia saw that the way she wanted to go was narrowed. She was caught between him and a table close to the wall that had been shoved aside with a narrow neck and wide base. Nevertheless, she "shot the gap". "I'm sorry, but no!" She shouted, a bit loudly as she did so.

That, unfortunately, was terrible timing. In an attempt to dissuade the noble, she had increased in volume to try and "scare him off". That meant she had made enough noise to make some of the other guests turn to her. She knew that, and so she tried to move too fast…and as she shot by her foot caught on the base of the table. Immediately, she spilled forward, unable to hold herself up, and landed against the floor. She managed to put her hands out in front of her to mostly cushion the fall, but in doing so she had left her pouch alone, and as she hit…at least half of the food she had stashed inside immediately spilled out over the floor in clear view.

This visual stimulus, in addition to the fall and the crying out, alerted everyone on the side of the room she was in. As the noble blinked and recoiled, other nobles turned to her along with the commoners…and soon all eyes were on her. Amelia was horrified. She remained laying like that for a moment in this position, prone on the ground, food scattered away from her…making herself both a scene and a spectacle. In spite of her attempts to abandon her pride…anyone who had an ounce of self-respect would have been mortified at this. She couldn't move. She only lay there…exposed before everyone… The silence of the surrounding crowd was spreading, as others nearby wondered what was going on and looked to her as well.

Finally, it broke…into snickering…and then laughter.

Amelia's face contorted in pain. She wanted to turn into a mouse and crawl into a hole. As the laughter around her increased, she closed her eyes and tried to bite back tears. She struggled to get up as fast as she could, but the more she tried, the more she stumbled over her own dress…and the more laughter she was subjected to. As tears did start to run out, she finally got up and ran over to the food. She actually began to gather some of it again at first as fast as she could, but that only exposed her to more laughter, especially since her fingers slipped and she let the game hen fall twice before finally getting it up. Finally, after getting everything, she turned and ran for the doors. Thankfully, no one was coming in…and she burst through a moment later.

The doors closed again behind her…but until the last she heard the people laughing. Putting her head in her hands in shame, she stumbled over a distance from it, trying to drown out the noise, until finally she got far enough to where she collapsed. Once there, she kept her head in her hands and continued to weep. If she had hoped to pass in unnoticed…there was no chance of that now. Some of those nobles had clearly seen her face. She wasn't foolish enough to think she, who once had beauty that was unrivaled within leagues in any direction, would have gone unrecognized by at least one of them and likely several. Now it was fully out. Never before had she been so humiliated.

She continued to sit there and cry for a long time. She had no idea how long exactly, however. Perhaps it was ten minutes, or perhaps it was an hour. The feast resumed, but she didn't care. No one came to comfort her or check on her, and she didn't blame them. She was a nobody, after all. Not only that…but perhaps a few of the nobles who recognized her actually were passing the story and enjoying the whole thing…seeing the prideful princess brought so low…

Yet after a while, she began to sniffle and try to dry up her tears.

_I can't sit here… I have to get back to Tim… He'll have better luck than me, at least…_

As she struggled to compose herself and get enough strength to rise again, however…she heard someone's footsteps on the stone moving up behind her. She wasn't sure who it was, but then she looked out slightly…and was able to catch Tim's pants and boots. Knowing it was him now, she looked away and sniffled again. She expected to be shouted at for making a scene…for not coming out sooner…

It didn't happen. He slowly crouched down and placed his hand on her shoulder. It was a comforting gesture…and she found herself wanting to be embraced by him at that moment. Yet she stayed away a bit longer. She did calm a bit more, however.

"…What happened?"

It was amazing how gentle Tim's voice could be. At any rate, she opened her mouth to speak. She meant to say how the noble had stopped her, how he wouldn't leave her alone, how she spilled her food as a result, how she was roundly mocked and how someone had to have recognized her. She nearly said it too…

But then stopped.

"Nothing." She ended up saying.

"…Nothing?" Tim echoed. "You're crying a great deal over 'nothing'."

"I'm receiving what I earned and nothing less." She said quietly, keeping her head bowed. "When those nobles came in to seek my hand in marriage…I mocked every last one of them cruelly because it made me feel better than them. Even good, decent, and wonderful people…like King Grizzlebeard. Now my pride has fully come back on my head. Just as I mocked him without cause…because of him I've been mocked as well. I deserved it…I deserved to be humiliated for being so cruel and unkind…"

There was silence from Tim for a moment. "…And do you think you are now 'even'?" He asked her after a moment. "That both sides have been justified?"

Amelia shook her head. "No…not at all." She answered. "It wasn't just then. Had that been one act of cruelty and heartlessness…it would have been enough. But it was my whole life. It was the princess I was. I thought I could treat others so poorly and that I had every right because I was a princess. Now I know what it means to be humiliated… I earned that mockery…but it still didn't feel good. And I humiliated people without cause who never deserved it. I was a cruel, vain, terrible woman…"

Again, a moment of silence.

"…And what are you now?"

She snorted bitterly. "A commoner, of course."

"…A 'cruel, vain, terrible' commoner?" Tim echoed.

This made the woman pause. She thought over that a moment, her sadness and self-loathing fading more. "I…I don't know…"

"You're kinder to others now, from what I hear. You even feed the mice. You no longer care for washing and grooming yourself and your hair all day either. You get up early and tend to your chores, head out and work all day, and then come back and resume them before heading to bed. You knew going into that room that you'd risk public humiliation, but you did it anyway. Why?"

Amelia blinked.

"…Because I wanted to get food for us. That's more important than public mockery. That's why I kept picking it up even as they kept laughing."

"You had enough still in your pockets, right?"

"…I don't care if it was." Amelia answered. "I wasn't just gathering for myself…I was gathering for you as well. You depend on me, don't you?"

"I do."

"Then I couldn't afford to let you down."

"I see." Tim calmly answered. "Amelia…does this sound like a 'cruel, vain, terrible woman'?"

The former princess blinked a few times. She didn't answer that. However, she began to grow puzzled. Why was he asking her these things? At last, she looked up to him and blinked again.

"Why did you come in the castle? I hadn't returned yet to fetch you…so how did you get in?"

Tim merely shrugged in response. "They let me inside to attend the wedding feast, of course. After all, it's mine."

Amelia froze on hearing that.

She blinked.

"…Excuse me?"

Tim smiled a bit widely. "You know…I figured when I met you in that ballroom that you didn't get a good look at me. Even to where after nine weeks later, you still didn't manage to recognize me. I was a bit nervous at first when you starting looking at me more, but…it seems so long as I didn't have the beard you knew so well, it was all for naught."

Amelia's eyes widened on hearing this. Her jaw began to slacken. "Y…you…" The realization slowly came over her as she stared at Tim, and began to imagine him without the beard…save for a tuft of one at the end of his chin… She stammered. She didn't know what to say.

Tim continued to smile back. "This floor is cold and hard. Let's find a place to sit while I tell you a little story."

Putting his arm around her middle, he gently began to lift her off of the ground. Amelia was still so shocked she let him do it, and guided him. Her mind was a mix of emotions and realization. The whole time…the entire time…it was him. That's why she never saw him at the castle. That's why she didn't see him in the ballroom this time. She also noticed he walked normally now. No more "stiffness" or "soreness". She also noticed that the guards at either end of the hall were doubling up and making sure no one came in…ensuring this was a private conversation. They reached one of the long cushioned chairs, and Tim…the king…sat her down on it as he sat next to her. He removed his arm at that point and folded his hands in front of him as he looked forward. Amelia, on her part, continued to gape, but had enough wits to hear.

"Once upon a time," The king began. "There was a prince who was cruel and merciless. He refused to obey his servants because he was of higher rank than them. He wouldn't do as his father or mother said. He'd break things in the house and skip his lessons because 'he was the prince'. Most of all, he would tease the animals that his father owned. He would tie the cowbells in their tails to make them terrified. He would whip the horses so hard that they'd bleed. He'd throw cats and kick dogs, and think it was all fun and that because he was a prince he had a right to treat these animals so harshly along with everyone else.

"Then one day, during the colder time of year, the king told his son that if he disobeyed him one more time…he would disown him, and the boy would no longer be his son. The prince disobeyed him anyway, thinking he wasn't serious…and so he was cast out in the simplest attire that the king left to him. The prince had spent his whole life being pampered and spoiled, and now that he was out of the castle…he had no idea what to do. At first, he demanded food and shelter from the people. But none of them recognized him as he was. Some of them chased him off with shouts or switching rods. He eventually began to ask more politely. But as the day wore on, and he grew hungrier, and the air grew colder, he finally began to beg. Yet no one gave him anything, and some chased him away as harshly as before. He had to spend the night in a pile of old straw in between buildings, but was miserable and freezing and hungry besides.

"The next day was no better, and the night grew colder. Having no other choice, he went up to the castle again to beg for forgiveness. But the gate was shut and barred, and the guards turned him away. Finally, as the night came on and snow began to fall, the stable master saw him and agreed to let him stay in the stable and even give him a bit of bread. It was cold and hard, but the boy was grateful for it. He said he could sleep in the stable and work as a stable boy to pay for future meals and a place to stay. The stable was even colder than the alley, but the stable master said he could sleep with the animals to keep warm. But the animals remembered him and how he mistreated them and wouldn't come anywhere near, forcing the boy to have another freezing night.

"As winter came on, the boy found himself forced to work and toil and struggle harder than he ever had in his life. Everything he wanted he had to earn. He was delicate and weak from his sheltered life, and he had to toughen quickly. Most of all, however, he had to learn to abandon his senseless cruelty. The very animals he mistreated were now his livelihood. If they wouldn't be calm around him, he couldn't work with them without them attacking him. And he needed them to keep warm at night. Gradually, he learned kindness and compassion, and how to treat all living things with dignity and respect. That lesson extended to all people, including those who worked in the stable and whose kindness he now depended on. Gradually, he learned to be kind to them as well.

"When winter finally ended, while the boy was cleaning the stables one day, the king came back before him. He admitted everything…that he had shown the young prince the cruelty of the world to learn to appreciate the virtues. That he would learn that the kindness of others was all most people had, and that whatever you did to others would one day come back to you, so one should think hard before doing evil without cause."

He looked to her at last. "How do you think the boy reacted? Or _should_ have reacted?"

Amelia stared for a moment at Tim…soaking in this story and all of what it meant. She thought for a long while. However, her shock had mostly subsided. Her face slowly relaxed. She at last turned away and stared at the ground.

"I'd imagine his first reaction would be a great deal of anger…that his father could have done something like that to him for so long…to someone he was supposed to love…"

Tim gave a small nod. "Understandable." He admitted.

She moistened her lips.

"But…if he was a wise person…he would have realized at some point over that time that he deserved what he got. That he had learned something very valuable from all that had happened. And deep down inside…he would have been happy that he had gone through all of it because it opened his eyes to the kind of person he was…and turned him into someone much better. And I think, in time, he would have forgiven his father because as harsh as the lesson was…it was something he needed to learn very badly."

The two were silent for a few moments. After a while, Amelia looked back to him.

"Did you…work this out with my father?"

"That part wasn't me…save for a slight 'nudge' in the 'right direction'." The king answered. "I was very cruel to my father's animals…but," He exhaled a bit. "I think you ended up 'trumping' me. Some of those nobles were willing to declare war on your father."

Amelia grimaced and bowed her head a bit on realizing that.

"I found out about what he did…that he was going to marry you to the first man who showed up at your door. But I knew enough to know that no noble would be arriving there for years, leaving only the poor. But poor men are rarely ambitious enough to go all the way to the front door of a castle where there's an unmarried virgin princess. So I had a man stay at the front gates of your castle just in case. He was to observe the kingdom as well as to give money to whoever came looking to beg. After all…I figured he'd get more from me than he would from the castle."

The former princess grimaced yet again.

"Meanwhile, I grew out the rest of my beard and trimmed the existing one and spent the month back in the stables to 'get in the right shape'. I trust my regent to handle my affairs for extended periods. He's a good man…even if he does try a bit too hard to get dances from attractive young ladies."

Amelia looked up at that. "You mean…that noble just now…?"

"I'll have to talk to him about that. It's not very becoming for a steward." The king answered as he reached up and pulled back his hat from his head. "The point being, Amelia…when I looked at you and talked to your father…I knew that for all your pride, all your vanity, and all your own cruelty…that there was a good person underneath all of that. In truth, I think there's one underneath all of the things we put on. People just aren't always willing to do what's necessary to bring that out. Sometimes it requires, unfortunately, a little less coddling and a bit more cruelty. Leaving my example…and going back to you…" He turned to her.

"…Would you like to slap me for what I did? Or spit in my face? Or anything else? Or would you like me to go into the ballroom over there first so you can do it publicly?"

Amelia stared back at him for a while at that. She studied his face…now having a hard time _not_ picturing him with that "grizzle-beard". However, as she stared…what little anger she had managed to enkindle faded again. She shook her head.

"No." She said after a time. "Because for everything I've been through…I'm happy I went through all of it. I like who I am now. If this is what it took…then I'm grateful." She bowed her head and exhaled, letting out a weak chuckle. "…I never thought I'd think this in a thousand years…but I want to thank you for what you did to me."

Tim made a small smile of his own back. He stared for a moment more, but then inhaled and began to push up from the chair.

"Well…I think we've kept everyone waiting long enough. Time to get washed and changed before everyone leaves the feast. I hope you'll find your room is furnished in a way pleasing to you until you decorate it yourself."

Amelia looked up at that, confused again. "Excuse me?"

Tim laughed a bit as he looked down at her. "This is _my_ wedding feast, is it not?"

The former princess blinked, but then nodded.

"Surely you haven't forgotten who the bride is already, have you?"

The woman blinked again, still not fully understanding it, given her situation.

"Everything we signed at your father's house is legal and binding. The name I put on there was my birth title, which applies to me whether my name is 'Timothy' or 'Grimes' or 'Grizzlebeard'. I'm assuming you did the same."

At last, it hit Amelia. She let out a bit of a gasp as she pulled back.

"So that means it's _your_ wedding feast as well." He concluded. "And it would be a shame if the bride didn't show at her own wedding feast, wouldn't it?"

Amelia continued to recoil. "You…you still want me? After knowing what kind of person I am?"

Yet before she could shield herself, the king reached out and took her hands. Again, it was firm…but so gentle that she calmed almost immediately. Slowly, he pulled her back. She resisted a bit, but he seemed so warm and genial that she slowly came forward, and then rose to her feet until she stood before him. He held her hands up between them and smiled at her.

"You're exactly the kind of person I want, as your father could have told you." He answered. "A noblewoman who says 'please' and 'thank you', who gives thanks to God for what she's been given, who shows appreciation and gratitude, who gives kindness and charity to others, and who knows what humility is. Now, Amelia…you really are a perfect person. I'm a lucky man to have married you…and as I told you that night, I will always love, cherish, and honor you until the day I die."

Amelia was quiet for a while, staring back at the king, as he continued to smile at her. He let her hands release at last, but she held them there none the less…until at last a smile came on her face as well.

The two threw their arms around each other and shared a kiss that surpassed that of any wedding day anyone in that kingdom had ever seen.

* * *

Within only an hour's time, although it was rough business, Amelia had cast aside her peasant attire and was once again a noble…now a queen. The king had set up servants to help them both, and although the rapid bathing and dressing was a bit "rushed" and even a bit painful with how hard they scrubbed to remove all of the dirt that had accumulated on her from her time in the shack, in the end Amelia could not only take all of it, but helped clean and dress herself while encouraging the staff to clean harder. As they worked out her long-put-up hair until it was once again shimmering bronze, she never cried out once even when they worked through a tangle that they knew was so hard that they apologized. All she did was ask their names so she could get to know them from the first day, and even bowed her head and waist to all of them when they were done, putting her head lower than theirs, thanking them for all of their help. Once that was done, she joined her husband and appeared in the feast hall…and continued to celebrate long into the night. There had never been such a merry gathering on the entire continent.

One could hardly have guessed that Queen Amelia was once the same Princess Amelia from the adjoining kingdom. No longer shut up in her "ivory palace", she relearned how to ride and spent her free time riding through the meadows or strolling through the forest. But always she would stop to greet the people in her new kingdom, and, to their puzzlement, would alight from her horse to actually help older citizens who were struggling with a heavy load, or to lift up someone who had fallen. She had the kitchen doubled in size so that it could have twice as many workers, and always commissioned a meal many times greater than what she and her husband and any with him needed so that the remainder could not only more than sate the appetites of her workers, but the rest of it be doled out to the poor in her kingdom. Always she troubled herself with the welfare and means of others and sought about making sure whoever was able-bodied was able to work and provide for themselves, and never did a beggar leave the front of her palace empty-handed.

To Katy she gave a great sum of money and five garments made for her, before allowing her to have her choice of whatever maid position she wanted in the castle. She at first rejected the gold and clothing, assuming she would have to pay it back, but Amelia assured her it was for a great deal of "back payments" that she had more than earned. To all the rest of those who attended her, she made sure to pay them enough where they could easily get three meals a day both for themselves and their families.

Not satisfied with that, she also sent a great many gifts back home to her former kingdom, mostly to her former ladies-in-waiting as well as those who had served her for so long. She also sent a message to her father. No harshness…no anger…simply a "thank you".

And the king and the queen lived happily and prosperously, eventually growing from a royal couple into a family with seven children. Both of them were greatly esteemed among all people who didn't rank among the nobility, for never did either of them consider themselves to be above anyone. Even at festivals, the two would join the common folk and the king would play while the queen would sing. It was always said of them that they were people who understood their fellow man and woman, who knew what it meant to toil and labor for very little reward other than another day of life. And to those who knew them most intimately, it seemed as if the love the king and queen had for each other grew stronger each day.

And while Amelia's happiness eventually surpassed all memories of misery, she ended up presenting one condition to the king before she would fully accept her end of the dubious marriage certificate they had signed…that King Grizzlebeard would again grow his signature beard and never alter it in any way for the rest of their marriage.

And twenty-five years after their wedding feast, he still hadn't.

* * *

The End


End file.
